


Heaven Is A Place On Earth

by writeyourownlifestory



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Crossdressing, Dancing, Flirting, M/M, Misunderstandings, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-01-12 05:12:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18439727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeyourownlifestory/pseuds/writeyourownlifestory
Summary: In a world where it pays to be gorgeous, Roger Taylor makes a pretty penny pretending to be someone he's not. He always believed that you never mix business with pleasure, but those lines begin to cross the moment John Deacon walks through the door.Officially rewritten and completed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My oh my, this is terrifying. While I am a HUGE fan of reading for this couple, writing for them has been slightly nervewracking, but this idea has been in my head for some time now and I just couldn't ignore it any longer. Hopefully, you enjoy it.

Someone used his eyeliner. What kind of disgusting git would use someone else beauty products? It was rude and unsanitary! He made a mental note to ask around, to look at the eyes of all the other ladies and see which one of them was wearing navy blue along their waterline. Even in the dim lights, he would be able to tell. After all, he was very specific with the colors. 

 

Roger was already running late, so the kohl color would have to work for now. Throwing down the flattened navy blue eye pencil, he grabbed the other and proceeded to carry on with his routine. Blue was better, as it brought out the color of his eyes, but kohls would due for now. 

 

With his eyes finished, he went onto do his face. Foundation that was powdered down. Rosy cheeks and pink lips. He smacked his lips a couple of time in the mirror, making sure they looked flush and wet. He ran the mascara wand over his extended lashes, fluttering them at his reflection. He looked on every shift, but tonight he felt exceptionally good. He didn’t exactly know why. It was just one of those feelings. 

 

Tightening the bows on his wig, Roger stood and adjusted his outfit for the night. It was usually the same, each girl got something to wear. A specific theme they had to represent. Somehow he had gotten chosen to come off as the naughty school with in stockings and a plaid skirt. He didn’t mind it. He looked good and knew the guest would like it, even if most of them were dirty old men who wanted to touch his bum and have him whisper words like ‘daddy’ and ‘sir’ to them all night. 

 

He’d put up with it only because he knew the money was good at the end of the day. He took good care of himself for that soul reason. He stayed fit and saved daily. After all, nobody wanted a pretty school girl with five o’clock shadow. He learned to tuck himself in and walk in heels. He was as natural as any of the other ladies in the dressing room, except for the whole, being a man thing. But none of that mattered right now. 

 

With his wheels strapped and his wig glued, Roger stood and checked himself over once more in the mirror. It was a damn well disgrace how good he looked. Truly. He put in lots of effort, that much was true, but to come out looking like this while the other women came in and went out looking not even half as lovely as himself . . . well, it was a shame for them really. 

 

Winking to his reflection, Roger left the room, strutting his stuff down the long corridor and into the party room where the lights were low and the music was fresh and there were people sitting and smoking and chatting up a bunch. 

 

Some of the other ladies were leading men upstairs already. So tacky. They didn’t put any effort in. Didn’t try to woo the men. All they cared about was getting down to business. Now where was the fun in that? 

 

Roger liked to put in a bit of effort when it came to the men he was involved with. Jumping right into it was so boring. He liked seeing the men try to flirt and speak so playfully with him. Most of them were terrible and only wanted one thing. He wanted them to work for it. Only fair after all.

 

If he was going to be doing all the work, the least they could do was make it worth his while! 

 

Tonight a party was going on, thrown by a client that was all too familiar with the place. Roger liked parties because he knew what to expect. On a regular night, there could be dozens of men around or barely any. You had to work harder on those nights. To get the men to be yours. At parties, you were paid regardless if you took someone to your room or not. 

 

All Roger had to do was smile pretty and enjoy himself.

 

He was popular enough, especially with the man who was throwing the party. Freddie loved to have a good time. He came often enough, whether it was for sex or just an escape. He was one of the few men that didn’t get on the nerves of the ladies that worked there. He always had something lovely to say and sometimes even came with gifts.

 

Freddie, a man who believed in free love and didn’t see the issue with wearing clothing of another sex, always had things to offer and Roger went home one even with a pocket full of cash from a full nights work and a fur coat right off the rack of Biba. 

 

Freddie found Roger as soon as she entered, coming to her side and kissing her cheeks welcomingly. Roger had no idea what the point of the party was, but then again, Freddie never needed a reason to throw a party. He could have a fresh cup of coffee and it was cause for celebration. 

 

The room was filled with men and women, all drinking and having fun. You could not attend a party thrown by Freddie Mercury and not enjoy yourself. It was against the law of the land! Roger leaned into Freddie’s side, listening to him ramble on and on about how important it was that each and every guest have a pleasant time. Roger was fairly certain that he told this speech of all the other women in Roger’s group, but he always paid extra attention to Roger. 

 

The blond didn’t know why exactly. Freddie had never tried to have him for the night. Never saw through the mask that Roger placed on or the character that he played. If he knew he was a man, he never said anything. He was a kind soul in that way. He never made you feel uncomfortable even in the strangest surrounds. 

 

“Now Rina, my love.” He spoke carefully, placing his hands on Roger’s shoulders as he looked into his eyes. 

 

That was what they called him. Rina. He had taken the name from a cruel monicker that his sister had given him when they were children. She would dress him up, playing pretend while their mother was at work. Claire always found it amusing, making her baby brother look like a baby sister. She would call him Rogerina, which back then was so silly, but as Roger got older and found his calling at the house, he couldn’t think of any other name that would work. 

 

Now, Rogerina didn’t exactly work. It wasn’t feminine enough, to be honest. All the ladies had pretty little names like Lily or Crystal or Sasha. Rina, on the other hand. It was short, sweet, and even a little bit sexy. 

 

Rina the naughty school girl. It worked nicely. 

 

“You of all people should know that if any guest at my party should have a terrible time, I would take the upmost offense to it. So I need you to make sure everyone is having the best time of their lives.” 

 

“I can’t imagine anyone having a bad time, Freddie.” He replied softly. 

 

He spoke gently as Rina. He always has a light voice. One that could even pass as female on the phone every now and then, but he knew how to control it. He sang often and was known for his falsetto. Roger had been Rina for a good while now and knew the mannerisms he had to carry on with. 

 

As Roger he could slouch and shrug, he could look down and keep his hands in his pockets. Being a man was so much easier than being a woman. Women had to keep their backs straight and heels on the ground. Their head was always tilted up and there was always a smile on their faces. Women were meant to be happy all the time, even if their feet were bleeding and their heads hurt. If they were having their cycle or were just in an all around pissy mood. 

 

Just smile, smile, smile! 

 

Roger was smiling now, even as he watched Freddie’s eyes drift around the room and settle on someone in the crowed. “Look here, darling. Do you see that man over there? Pretty fellow sulking in the corner?” 

 

Roger followed his gaze, his green eyes finally settling on the man across the way. Freddie was right when he said he was pretty. He wasn’t pretty-pretty like Roger was. He could never pass as female and get away with it like the blond, but he was still nice to look at all the same. He seemed so timid, like a scared animal caught in a trap. An adorable little thing he was. 

 

“That’s a dear friend of mine, John. I love him to bits and I want him to enjoy himself. Show him a good time, won’t you?” 

 

Roger knew what showing someone a good time meant. To the women in the house (the real women) it meant sex. Roger couldn’t do that for them. Mostly due to the fact that he didn’t have the body part a high portion of the men that came to the house were seeking. He knew other ways to make a man weak in the knees, however. 

 

A few good words whispered in the dark, a gentle yet firm hand and even his own mouth was enough to satisfy their need and want. 

 

Roger wondered if that was exactly what this John fellow needed. A bit of a rub and tug to get him into the mood for a party. 

 

Roger tossed Freddie a promising wink, taking hold of one of the drinks on a passing tray as he made his way over to the man. “Is this seat taken?” He asked, going to perch himself on the second cushion of the double love seat that had been shoved into the corner so people could move about easily. 

 

The man, John as he was apparently called, shook his head, sparing Roger a small glance before returning his gaze to his drink. Roger sat there for a moment, sighing softly as he looked around him. “Lovely party, isn’t it?” He asked casually, crossing his legs smoothly. 

 

The skirt he wore was short, high above his knee. It shifted, shoving off his shapely legs. Most men would often gaze at them, but not John. He continued to look down at his glass like it was the interesting thing in the whole world. 

 

“I’m Rina, by the way.” Roger lifted his hand, offering it to him. His finger nails were at a decent length and he painted them with a lovely lilac color. It was light enough where most people wouldn’t notice while he was out in public, dressed as himself, but could still be seen to any person who paid enough attention. 

 

He also made sure to lotion his hands often, keeping them dainty and soft. Every now and then he’ll allow himself a bit of enjoyment. He didn’t drum as often as he liked on account of how raw and rough it made his hands feel. Very ladylike indeed. 

 

While offering her a passing glance, John took her hand and shook it promptly. His hands were large, with long, deft fingers that Roger took notice of. He spoke his name softly, his accent and tone as light as Roger’s. 

 

“Are you a friend of Freddie’s?” Roger asked him. He responded with a hum, his lips sipping gently at his cup. “He throws the best parties, you know. Always so large, so lavish. They’re wonderful. It’s an honor to be apart of them.” 

 

“I’m not one for parties,” John replied quietly. 

 

Normally it would be hard to hear over the music, but tucked away in their little corner, sitting beside one another, Roger made due. 

 

“Now why is that?” Roger asked, his black heel swaying lazily as he twitched his foot. It was a little tick of his, always of anxious. He didn’t like sitting still. He never has. It was part of the reason he got into playing the drums; he always constantly moving, even if he was just sitting there. 

 

Most men preferred that the women in the house just sit there and look pretty, which was something Roger was capable of, to a degree. He always itched for more, though. Always wanted a bit of movement here and there. 

 

John shrugged at the question, sitting back a little in the love seat. “Don’t know really,” He confessed. “Just never really liked them.” 

 

“Oh come on now. Everybody likes parties.” Roger waved his hand idly, turning his head to once again looking around the room. 

 

People were coupling up, dancing on the floor without a care in the world. Roger knew well enough that those going up the stairs were preparing for sex and those who were still working their way up to that point were getting drunk or high or both. 

 

John did look a bit out of place here. His clothing wasn’t bright or showy, like Freddie’s and he wasn’t flirting with the women of the house like any other guest. Even the women who came as guest were finding things to do, some of them even taking up the opportunity to have a bit of gal-on-gal fun with some of his coworkers.

 

Roger had taken a girl or two before and found that he liked it just as much as he liked being with men. It was hard to make any real connection while playing the role as Rina and while he fully believed he had a decent amount of game as himself with both sexes, it had been sometime since he had any real action. 

 

He was so used to pleasing others professionally that focusing on his own pleasure didn’t come as easily. He had taken it upon himself to wank off in the shower or in his small bedroom when he was alone after hours or in the early morning when he had the time. 

 

On another night, he might have found himself jealous of those partaking in the alcohol and drugs, but even Roger could find a kind solace in just sitting and talking. After all, he was getting paid regardless. So he stuck to doing as Freddie asked of him and kept his focus on the man beside him. 

 

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” Roger asked, clenching his jaw when he saw a flash of fear slip across the other man’s face. “I only ask because you look desperately uncomfortable. We could go out back. Have a smoke and a decent chat.” 

 

Roger wasn’t sure if he’d take the suggestion. He wasn’t lying when he said John looked uncomfortable. Like a child stuck at an adult party, he looked as if he was moments from pouncing up and running home. Roger thought of what he would say to Freddie if he did leave. He promised to show him a good time, but he wasn’t a miracle worker. 

 

John shifted in his seat for a moment before giving a small nod. Hopping up, Roger turned and led him through the party and out the back door. Nobody was outside, allowing them to have all the privacy in the world. The music could still be heard, though slightly muffled through the doors. 

 

Plopping down on one of the patio couches, Roger pulled out the small container of cigarettes he held inside the bra he was wearing. He hadn’t been gifted with tits and therefore had to stuff the bra with replacements. There was still a bit of room however and he allowed himself to fill it with things he knew he would need during the night, like cigarettes and lighters and even sometimes tiny cocaine bags if it was going to be a very rough night. 

 

Roger offered John a cigarette, lighting his own as he relaxed back on the couch. John remained standing, his gaze looming over him before he went to look around the yard. Roger laid suggestively, knowing full well his outfit of the night left very little to the imagination. 

 

His tights were black and sheer, enough for you to be able to see the muscles in his legs. His skirt, though normally plaid to go with the whole school-girl thing, was full black this time around. A white button-down shirt which was tucked in and a pink and yellow tie to finish it off. He knew it must have looked ridiculous, but men looked at him in such a way that was enough for him to know it was working. 

 

He laid back, the cigarette resting against his pink lips as he sucked slowly, inhaling the smoke, which he blew back slowly. John stood there, looking just as awkward as he had inside. His fingers nervously holding the cigarette that he had been given and he brought it to his lips. Roger smiled, sitting up slightly. “It’s not lit, silly.” He mentioned. 

 

John’s eyes fell to the cigarette and he visible sighed. With a giggle, Roger held up the lighter, his fingers grazing John’s as he took it and proceeded to light the cigarette, making a long, slow inhale of it. 

 

“How did someone like you wind up in a group like Freddie’s?” Roger asked curiously. “I’ve seen the people Freddie hangs around with. You’re not like them.” 

 

Freddie surrounded himself with all types of people, and while their differences were obvious, they all had one thing in common: they wanted to share Freddie’s energy. They all loved the attention and the lime light that he gave off. Roger had met many of Freddie’s friends and while none of them had the same . . . aura as Freddie, they were at least down to enjoy themselves at his expense. 

 

This man was nothing like that. He was shy and quiet. He looked like a lost duck trying to find his pond. He had a glass in his hand, but he wasn’t chugging it and looking for a replacement. Roger wondered if this man was a bit of a charity case for Freddie; a little project for him to fix up on the fly. 

 

“We play together in a band,” John admitted, taking a step closer. 

 

“You’re a musician?” Roger asked, the thought piquing his interest. 

 

John shook his head slowly. “Not really. I . . . I work in electrical engineering. But I play bass. And Freddie, sometimes he needs a bass player he can trust and well, apparently he trust me.” 

 

“If Freddie thinks you can play, then you have to be something wonderful. Freddie won’t work with anybody who isn’t to his level.” 

 

Then again, nobody would ever reach Freddie Mercury’s level. Still, he didn’t allow himself to play with people who didn’t put their heart and soul into it. Some things he may do could be considered a bit questionable, but at the end of the day, Freddie always put his music first. He expected nothing but the best, so even if he didn’t outwardly say it, Roger knew John must have been one hell of a player. 

 

“Yes, well, Freddie likes to exaggerate,” John commented, shifting from one foot to the other. 

 

“If you aren’t into parties, why did you come?” He asked, leaning back on the couch. 

 

A small smile crept along John’s face, the first of the night. It was adorable. Roger didn’t find men adorable. They were either gorgeous or average. Things like adorable and cute were meant for children and yet he found this man here to be slightly precious. 

 

“You don’t say no to Freddie Mercury.” He answered. 

 

Roger smiled on his mouth, bringing his cigarette back to his lips. He was certainly right about that. Another law of the land. Freddie Mercury is always right and on the slim chance that he is wrong, you merely look the other away and ignore that fact. 

 

They stayed out there until they finished their cigarettes, both accepting the silence that had been offered. John wasn’t much of a talker, that much was for certain. Roger didn’t mind. He was giving him the attention Freddie wanted him to have; whether or not anything came out of it was all up to John. Roger wasn’t missing out on anything. There would be other parties, other men to flirt with. For now, he was enjoying the moment in the cool air. 

 

Every now and then he’d shoot John a glance. He was swaying his head slightly to the music and when the song changed, he found the man began to shift his feet like he was dancing on his own on a one-foot dance floor. 

 

Roger knew the song well enough, having heard it played on the radio a time or two. Flicking the butt of the cigarette off into the garden, he stood, catching John’s eyes as he approached. 

 

“Dance with me,” He requested. “No one will see. You look itching to move, so come on.” Reaching forward, Roger took the glass from John’s hand and place it down on the glass table. He slipped the cigarette from his fingers and tossed it to the ground, stomping it out with his heel. 

 

Roger stepped into John’s personal space, moving to place his now unoccupied hands along his waist. John looked like a deer caught in headlights, uncertain and too scared to move. Roger didn’t mind so much. He could move about on his own, letting the hushed tune play out as they swayed together. 

 

As the bridge came along, John seemed to finally relax and began swaying with Roger. The blond took advantage of this, lacing their fingers as he stepped down and twirled back into his arms. John placed his second hand back at his waist and swayed with him as they stood together, John’s chest to Roger’s back. 

 

Roger had danced with men before, he knew how to get them going by moving his hips and grinding against them in a way that was a bit more serious than mere suggestion, but this was different. It was slow and comfortable. New for them both it seemed. 

 

As the song played on, Roger sang along with it, the hook catching his ear all too easily. He laid his head back against John’s shoulder, smiling up to him sweetly. “You’re a splendid partner, John.” 

 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” John answered, once again giving a cute little smile. “You smell lovely, by the way.” He added. Even in the moonlight, Roger could see the scarlet color of John’s cheeks.

 

Roger didn’t spend his money on silly things. He enjoyed keeping himself fashionable and usually only bought himself a few things that were a bit outrageous like shoes and coats. For his persona, for Rina, he didn’t bother buying himself anything. The house provided the clothing and makeup and things for his wig. 

 

Perfume, however, was something he liked to use. Everybody wanted a lover who smelt so sweet, so he would go out and find a bottle of something expensive and fantastic. DKNY, Clive Christian, or Dior. Something that he’d use the only while at work. He took great pride in smelling nice and playing such a lovely lady. 

 

“You’re sweet,” He teased, reaching to tap his finger on John’s nose. 

 

Standing this close gave Roger a good idea just how handsome John really was. Youthful despite his age, his teeth revealed a tiny little gap that came off as endearing and precious. Roger was so used to people commenting about his own beauty that he felt as though the same as going on for him inside his mind as he thought of John. 

 

When the song ended, they stayed wrapped up in one another. Another song came on, a funky little beat that caught John’s attention. Roger was about to suggest they continue on to dance when someone burst through the door. 

 

It was another couple, one of the ladies Roger worked with and another party guest. Roger had seen them a time or two before, following Freddie around like a lost puppy, though he didn’t catch his name. 

 

“Oy! Sorry loves,” The man muttered, his arm wrapped around the woman. They laughed, both obviously drunk and looking for a place to stumble into for some fun.

 

John stepped away, releasing Roger from his hold as the couple went back inside. He took hold of his glass once more and finished it swiftly. “I think I should go.” He mentioned suddenly, both hands holding onto the small glass as he looked to Roger. 

 

“We’ve only had one dance,” 

 

“One was enough.” He swallowed, holding Roger’s gaze for a moment. “Goodnight.” 

 

Turning on his heel, John slipped away, back into the party, leaving Roger alone in the yard, the muffled music casting as his back track as he stood alone in the moon light. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the random change of title. I had to add a scene in a later chapter and used the Belinda Carlisle song in it, and it just fit far better than the other. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

Roger didn’t expect to see John again. If him barely speaking a word wasn’t enough to tick off that this just wasn’t his scene, then having him run off the moment he was spotted with a woman in his arms definitely did the trick. Roger didn’t take offense to it. His career choice made many people feel many things. 

Some were baffled by why he would want to do such a thing. Others were disgusted. Most men didn’t try to think too hard about it, while women straight up hated the house. Roger learned to just roll his eyes at the comments. If a man left his wife to come to the house, that wasn’t his problem. He didn’t lead people on. Didn’t promise them more than what they came for. Jealousy didn’t look good on anyone, so Roger chose to ignore it whenever it came his way. 

He worked five nights out of the week. It was the most you were allowed to work. Six or seven was just out of the question. Even for himself, who only used two parts of his body to please the guest, everybody needed a day to rest and reflect. He got along with all the women in the house, which was surprising, to say the least. There was always enough guest to entertain, so no fighting ever came across them. 

They all knew about him and were sworn to secrecy over it by the woman who ran the house. She had taken Roger under her wig and was the one to teach him how to make Rina come to life. Her own son was a drag queen in the city and they used those tips to keep it all under wraps. 

Roger spent five nights in the week wearing heels and a pretty skirt. Five nights when he had a hand on his ass and a playful giggle on his tongue. Five nights when he pretended to be somebody else and on the two nights when he got to be himself, he did very little. 

Sometimes he’d go out and drum whenever someone was in need of a drummer for the night and their schedules lined up. Other nights he’d go out on the town and just enjoy himself. Meet up with friends and maybe take someone home for the night. He was good with flirting, knew what both men and women wanted to hear.

You would think someone who flirted as a profession would get tired of it and that was true to a degree. Sometimes Roger found himself just too damn tired to find any personal attention. One those two nights, he would just sit home alone, reflecting on how things had turned out. 

Roger enjoyed those two days after Freddie’s party, taking care of the little things for his loft-like laundry and cleaning before returning to work. When he arrived, he was told he had someone looking for him. It wasn’t surprising, as he was popular enough among some of their returning guests. 

Roger could name a handful of men that he had pleased that had returned for more. He kept them waiting as he dressed, the typical school girl attire back on. Bobby-socks and paid skirt, with his wig curled in posh little ringlets. He told the girl who worked at the desk to have the man sent to his room. Each lady was given one when they wanted some privacy.

Roger knew it was a bit cruel to keep them waiting so long, but it kept them wanting more. He entered the room, his green eyes widening when he saw John sitting the edge of the bed. He sat upright, like a student outside the headmistresses office waiting to get rung up about something naughty he had done.   
“Well, isn’t this a surprise.” He mentioned, closing the door behind him. “Didn’t expect to see you again after our little dance.” 

John straightened, visibly swallowing as their eyes met. “I wanted to apologize.” He mentioned.

“Apologize?” Roger mimicked, raising a brow to him. “You paid for a private session just so you could apologize?” 

“I didn’t know how else to see you.” John went onto sat. He was nervous, that much was obvious. Roger watched as he ran the heel of his hand along his denim covered legs, his hands cupping his knees to hold onto something. “Freddie doesn’t have your number . . . asking him was a joke.” 

“I can imagine,” Roger chuckled at the idea, already seeing the dark haired man practically giddy with the idea of John wanting to see the pretty blond again. “Well, here I am.” 

Roger walked deeper into the room, his hands falling on his hips as he presented himself to the man. John watched him with wide, yet calculated eyes. “I’ve never done this,” he confessed quietly. “I don’t go out much. I don’t meet any people. Freddie tries so hard to break me from my shell but, I don’t think it’s meant to be broken into.” 

“I’m not going to judge you, John. Believe it or not, this is a safe space.” 

There was no judgment in a whore house. How could there be? Men and women were paying for the attention and affection from another. Whatever it was they wanted or however, they felt was all up to them. Sure, there would be a lady in the house who didn’t approve of this or that, but in a world where money was spoken strongly in every language, it was very rare for someone to give a flat out no. 

Roger moved to sit beside John, just as he had the night they met. He tossed his blond locks over his shoulder and crossed his tight covered legs. Roger excepted his eyes to wander, but they never did. 

The handsome grayish-green eyes stayed locked on Roger’s own pair. “I didn’t . . . I just wanted to say I was sorry for leaving. I hope I did not offend you.” 

“I will say, I’ve never had someone rush off before,” Roger confessed with a small chuckle. “I took it as a compliment. That I was just too much for you to handle and you had to scurry away before you spontaneously combust.” 

A light, lovely laugh slipped from John’s lips. It wasn’t a sound Roger was used to hearing. He didn’t make men laugh, he turned them on and made them moan. Roger thought about if he could do that to John as well, but the laugh was still nice to hear. 

“You were not too far off.” He confessed, his hands still running up and down his pant legs. 

“If you’re not here for a bit of fun, what shall we do then? After all, you paid for the time. We should use it wisely.” 

John breathed in slowly through his nose and Roger watched as his tongue slipped across his lips, wetting them. “We could talk?” He offered. “I am sorry if I am wasting your time.” 

“You’re a guest, John. You could never waste my time.” 

That’s what they were taught in the house. If the guest was willing to pay and they weren’t making you feel uncomfortable, then you did whatever they wanted you to do. It was rare, but every now and then, a guest would just want to sit and speak to the lady they paid for. Sometimes people were willing to pay for a bit of verbal comfort, as well as physical.

So they talked. John, though shy, was all to hold a conversation far better than Roger would have expected. He had opinions on nearly everything, like music and art and things going on in the country. Roger never had an easy conversation with any of the guest, but then again most conversations were just flirting. Roger didn’t have to flirt with John. 

He wasn’t trying to touch him up or put on a good show. They were sitting together, laughing and debating on certain subjects. Roger found himself getting lost a bit in the conversation, though always made sure to keep himself in the same state of mind. He couldn’t be aggressive or come off too strong. 

He was a lady. Prim and proper and always eager to please the guest. 

There was a knock on the door, rough and alert. The signal that Roger was far too familiar with. Their time was up. Roger frowned, pulling away to stand. He found himself slightly disappointed, but this was a business and giving special treatment was frowned upon. 

“It seemed our time has come to an end,” He spoke somberly.

“Oh. Yes, of course.” John stood to his feet, jumping up off the bed as if the sheets were burning at his skin. He approached carefully, looked apprehensive. “This was nice. Sitting and talking with you.” 

“It was nice, wasn’t it?” 

Roger never could say any time with a guest was nice. Sometimes it was productive and he made a good amount of money off it, but he never truly enjoyed himself. This small stolen moment with John, however, benefitted him in a way that Roger did not except. 

John moved forward towards the door, pausing so he could look back to Roger. His hand was rubbing at the back of his neck, his long fingers running through his hair. “Do you think . . . would it be all right if I came back?” 

“You want to come back?” 

“Or if I could see you outside the house?” John offered. 

“Oh,” Roger muttered, his eyes momentarily falling onto the floor. “Outside . . . no, that would not be possible.” 

Roger was not the same person when he stepped outside the house. He wasn’t the girlish Rina who would flip her hair and bat her eyelashes. He was a boring bloke who wanks off in the shower and slept until noon. No one wanted to get to know him, especially not a man who was paying for his time. 

John’s expression fell and it was easy to see he took that as a no all around. He whispered a soft apology, turning once again to leave. 

Reaching out, Roger held firm onto his arm, keeping him from walking out. “But, you can come back, if you’d like.” He spoke softly. “I like talking to you.” He admitted. 

The smile returned to John’s face, though it was not as bright as it was prior. With a small bob of his head, John left the room. Roger remained there for a few minutes, going to turn to the vanity so he could adjust his makeup. 

The night was still young and there was still guest to entertain. Heading back down the stairs, Roger turned when he heard his moniker being called and went to find the mother of the house and the girl at the front desk looking bright and smiley. 

“Was he any good?” The young girl Mary asked. “He seemed very persistent to see you. Practically bounced on the balls of his feet as he waited for you.”

“It’s always the quiet ones, I tell you.” The mother of the house added. 

Roger rolled his eyes at them both. Roger wasn’t going to make up some silly story about how John gave him the time of his life, especially since the mother of the house was very aware that Roger didn’t do anything more than oral with the guest.

And he certainly wasn’t going to tell them that all they did was chat, so instead, he just flipped the blond curls over his shoulder and gave a dramatically sharp sigh. 

“A lady never tells,” He spoke, turning on his heel to walk back into the guest room to find his next partner for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still like it? Still worth reading? What are John's intentions? What are Roger's? Let's find out together!


	3. Chapter 3

It was a few days later that John returned. Roger was already with another guest and a small pang of guilt hit Roger’s chest when he realized how long the man had been waiting for. Any other time, he wouldn’t care. In fact, he downright adored the idea of a man waiting for his attention, but John was different. 

He wasn’t coming here in hopes of getting sucked off or being hit on by a lovely lady. He had decent intentions, which was incredibly rare to find. Roger cleaned himself up when his previous guest departed, washing his mouth out and making sure he looked as pretty as ever when John was sent up to his room.

He came in carrying a bouquet of flowers, lilies to be except. Roger wasn’t much of a flower man, but receiving any gift was always lovely. He had been given many things, like clothing and jewelry. Most of which he sold the moment he left the house, but other items he kept for his own selfish needs. 

Flowers were more personal to Roger. Diamonds and clothing lasted a good while, but flowers were only there for a moment. They would sit and look nice and then die in a matter of days so you had to take the chance to enjoy the sight of them. He took them carefully, bringing them to his nose to inhale their fresh scent before turning to place them on his vanity. He didn’t have a vase, but that didn’t matter. He’d take them home at the end of the day and let them brighten up his tiny kitchen at home. 

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” Roger mentioned, going to sit down on the edge of the bed. 

Roger remained standing in the middle of the room, his arms crossed in a way that Roger guessed was supposed to look casual, but the way he was pointing out his hip made it very clear John was faking it. 

“It’s no worries,” He replied smoothly, searching the room aimlessly. 

“Do you want to sit?” Roger offered. 

John looked back to him, his head moving only a fraction as a nod and proceeded to move forward, going to sit beside him on the mattress. “Do you stay here?” He asked softly. 

“Some nights,” He confessed quietly. “I have a place outside the house. Most rooms are usually used for when we have a guest to entertain. The beds aren’t exactly made for sleeping.” 

It was meant to be a joke, but John was nodding along, so serious as always. Roger leaned back slightly, taking in a good look at him. His jaw was clenched and he wasn’t looking in his eyes. Roger sighed, already knowing what this was. 

“John,” He spoke carefully. “It’s what I do, John.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“You may pay just for good conversation, but other men prefer to use my mouth for other things. If it makes you uncomfortable, then you shouldn’t be coming around.” 

“I . . . I’m not jealous.” John told her outright. “I know what this is, Rina. I know what you do. I don’t . . . I’m not here to judge you or get upset that you were with someone else.” 

“Then why is it you look like you’re trying to set the carpet on fire with your gaze?” 

John looked to her then, though his gaze had softened just a bit. He sighed, shifting on the bed so he was partially facing her. “I am sorry.” He whispered. “I had a terrible day and I guess I brought that bad energy here.” Lifting a timid hand, he placed it on her leg. It was a small gesture, but an intimate one all the same. “I don’t want you to think I am possessive or anything of the sort. I know what you do. I am paying you just as they are. We just spend our time differently.”

“We don’t have to, you know,” Roger told him carefully. “I can help you relax if that is what you need.” 

“Please don’t,” John said, his tone short and quiet. “I don’t mean to offend. I just . . . I take intimacy seriously. I am not saying you don’t, but the men who come here, they only have one thing in mind. I generally like talking to you, Rina.” 

“I like talking to you too. You can tell me about your day and I’ll listen. And while I listen, I can do other things. I am very good at multitasking, you see.” 

Roger leaned forward to kiss at his neck. He could feel John sensing slightly, but he was used to that. Every now and then he’d wind up with a man who was a bit too nervous about the whole thing. Roger had learned how to take it slow, how to open them up. John was no different. 

“Talk to me, John. What’s bothering you?” 

John swallowed hard and he began muttering about issues with Freddie and his need to start a bit of a band. He performed on his own, but he liked having people backing him up. He was working on another album and apparently there was a bit of conflict between those around him. 

“The . . . the guitarist, well he is very talented but he is so stuck in his own ways. He constantly wants a solo. These long, winded sessions that slow the song down to an annoying degree.” 

“Oh, that sounds just terrible,” Roger whispered, sucking slowly at the space between John’s shoulder and neck. 

A small noise escaped John’s lips and he left the hand on his knee squeeze slightly. Roger continued to kiss and suck, making a tiny little mark that was plainly visible against John’s pale skin. He moved his own hand to John’s lap, gently caressing without full-on feeling him up. He wanted to work his way there, not just grab hold of John’s cock through his pants. 

John was struggling to speak, to get out all his thoughts while also having Roger touch and kiss at him. Roger half excepted the man to push him away, but he never did. He continued to carry on the shaky conversation, taking slow breathes through his nose and squeeze Roger’s knee whenever he felt himself getting too caught up in it. 

Roger moved his hand forward, prepared to seek that the now hardening member, but John caught him, keeping a firm grip on his hand to keep him from moving it any further along his leg. 

“I can help you relax, John.” He whispered against the skin of the man’s neck. 

“You’ve done more than enough,” The brunet whispered, his voice so light and gentle it could almost mirror Roger’s own. 

He turned his head suddenly then, their eyes locking. John held Roger’s gaze before the grayish green eyes that Roger knew he could get lost in flickered down. Roger’s lips, which were usually colored by some form of lipstick or gloss, were pink by their own indication now, from having been kissing and sucking at John’s neck. 

John watched his lips for a stolen moment and when he lifted his eyes again, there was something serious behind them. “Rina,” He whispered out quietly, but his voice was cut off by the loud banging on the door. 

Once again, their time was up. 

John took a slow to inhale through his nose, his eyes shut tightly and his hands balled against his legs. 

“You’ll have to request an hour next time.” Roger teased, frowning slightly as he stepped away. 

Most men asked for either an hour or half hour with him. He didn’t need more than that. Roger had learned how to use his time wisely, never wanting to make them cum too quickly as then they would be stuck together for the rest of the time if the man decided he wanted his money's worth. 

Moving to the vanity, he found the dainty cigarette holder he kept on hand and plucked one out. He always enjoyed smoking after a bit of fun and while he wouldn’t exactly call this fun, he was itching for one regardless. He lit it up, turning to watch John stand to his feet. 

He coughed, shifting awkwardly. It didn’t take a wise man to know that he had gotten hard just from a bit of necking. 

“Until next time.” Roger bid him, watching as the man shuffled away. With a puff of his cigarette, Roger turned to look back to the vanity. He would have to do a bit of touching upon his makeup before going on with the night, but for now, that could wait.


	4. Chapter 4

It had been well over a week later and Roger had seen no sight of John. He had figured the man moved on from their little visits. After all, he didn’t seem interested in anything truly physical, so other than a good conversation, why would he want to waste the money?

 

Roger’s time wasn’t cheap. The going rate of the house was more or less the same, but whenever a lady was requested by name, the price always went up a bit. It was the rule of the woman who ran the house. If you wanted someone specific for a certain amount of time, there was a bit of a fee. Nobody really spoke about it, not like there was a sign or anything, but Mary the girl at the front and the owner of the house knew about it. 

 

Very rarely did they have anybody complaining about the prices. You came here to get your rocks off. If you were loneliness or desperate enough for that, then a price really wasn’t going to be an issue with it. Roger would get paid a portion of that time and then receive any tips the man wanted to leave. Sometimes he’d go home empty-handed, which was a bummer but he’d deal with it, and then other nights he had a whole months rent. 

 

It all depended on the men or women and what they wanted and how they felt. All Roger could do was smile and play along.

 

It had been a slow night when Roger got the call that he had been requested. He was in the middle of changing when the call came in and Roger hurried along it finish up so they could send the man to her. When the careful knock came, Roger hopped onto the bed, flipping through some teen magazine they supplied for him. He was skimming through it when the door opened and to his surprise, his guest was John. 

 

Once again he came carrying flowers. Roger had only tossed away the first bundle earlier that morning, having wanted to get as much out of them as he could, but they were wilting and falling apart on his counter, so they had to go.

 

Roger sat up on the bed, an easy smile coming across his lips when their eyes met. “John. You’re back.” 

 

“I hope you don’t mind,” John spoke sheepishly, smiling back to him as he approached. “I booked the whole hour as you said.” 

 

Standing before him, John held the flowers out. Roger took them, holding them close to his chest. They smelt fresh and lovely and would once again make his plain little loft just the tiniest brighter. 

 

“A whole hour together. Whatever shall we do?” Roger spoke aloud, her smile widening behind the bouquet. 

 

“I was hoping to ask you something last time, but I never got the chance.” 

 

Humming, Roger stood to his feet, slowly walking past John so he could place the flowers on top of the vanity. “You can ask me now,” He said over his shoulder. 

 

He caught John in the reflection of the mirror. He looked as anxious as always, though he held his head up, catching Roger’s eyes in the mirror. 

 

“Well, I was going to ask . . . if it would be all right if I kissed you?” 

 

Roger turned slowly, giving John the silliest of looks. “What kind of question is that?” He asked, his hand falling to his hips. His skirt swayed as he approached him, going to stand before John. They were the same height, thanks to the heels he wore, making it much easier to keep the eye contact. “You’re paying for this time, John. It is very little you can’t do with me.” 

 

“Thanks for the reminder,” John grumbled out, breaking their gaze slightly. “I didn’t know if you had rules or not. I don’t want to overstep.” 

 

There were a few ladies in the house that had specific dos and don'ts when it came to the guest. Some of them preferred not to be kissed, though most of them were the married girls who took the job either in secret or by the okay of their husbands. Others loved to kiss the guest, as it made it a bit more intimate. 

 

As for Roger, he didn’t mind it. After all, his mouth was the money maker, so he used it to the best of his abilities. 

 

“You can kiss me, John,” Roger told him softly, watching as the brunet bobbed his head with full understanding. 

 

Roger watched as the wheels turned in John’s head and before he knew it, John was moving forward to close the gap between them. It was exactly like Roger excepted it to be. Nervous, yet gentle as he held onto him. 

 

Roger let the kiss linger for a moment before going to take over and adjust the kiss ever so slightly. By this point, Roger was a professional about it. He didn’t kiss half as many people as one might expect, but he did it enough to know what to do. 

 

Backing John up, Roger guided him to sit back on the bed as he straddled him, never breaking the kiss as he did so. John frozen then, his hands gripping the sheets as Roger pulled back. 

 

“John,” Roger whined, his hands settling on John’s shoulders.

 

“I don’t . . . I want to kiss you. But I don’t want this to be all about me.” 

 

Roger couldn’t stop himself from laughing. He was straddling John on the bed, his knees pressed on either side of John’s legs. He was sitting on him, wearing a light blue button-down and a navy blue skirt that was far too short for his own good. It was a ridiculous scene on its own, but to have John say that he wanted this to not be about him just added the cherry on top. 

 

“I get pleasure out of your pleasure,” Roger insisted, leaning down to kiss him once again. 

 

John pulled back, his hands settling on his hips to keep him still. “That doesn’t sound very fair,”John argued. 

 

Roger leaned back with a huff, looking over to the lock. They still had fifty minutes left. “What do you want to do then?” He asked, allowing his attitude to slip out. 

 

It wasn’t that Roger was against getting pleasure from a guest, but really what could they do? He was a grown man with a penis — chances of finding a guest who was interested in that was very, very slim. And even if they were interested in doing anything from behind, it wasn’t like he could hide that part of him. 

 

Roger kept himself tucked away and hidden properly. No one could feel him up and even if they tried, the breast they were squeezing were fake. The only pleasure Roger got out of it was knowing he’d be going home with money in his wallet at the end of the night. 

 

Roger waited for John to answer, waited for him to give a list of things they could do — all of which Roger would wind up shooting down but instead of answering, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to Roger’s neck. 

 

He began kissing there just as Roger had done to him the last time they met. John kept his hand’s at Roger’s waist, holding him still as he kissed and nuzzled against his neck. Roger had to admit, it was nice. Roger didn’t remember the last time someone had paid attention to the little things, who enjoyed foreplay that was forced on him instead of the other way around. 

 

John kissed along his neck, going across his face and peppering him with kisses until he made it to the other side. His teeth grazed against his skin for a careful bite. That was more Roger’s style. He enjoyed the softness, but biting and nibbling were what got him going. 

 

John must have sensed this and began biting a bit harder, sucking against his neck and marking his fair skin. Roger would have to cover up any marks later on, but it would be worth the trouble. 

 

John’s hand slowly moved from Roger’s waist to his backside. He didn’t go all the way down, but his intentions were obvious. While touching at his chest would be rather fruitless, Roger knew he had been gifted with a lovely bottom.

 

Deciding to make this a bit more interesting, Roger reached back and pushed John’s hand down until it was settled onto his ass. John took a slow to inhale, pulling away to look at Roger as if to gain reassurance that it was all right. 

 

Rather than answering with words or rolling his eyes at how silly it was, Roger leaned his head down to capture his lips once more. Despite being overly calculated and careful, John really was a lovely kisser. 

 

He wondered if John had ever been caught up with some naughty girl back in school, kissing behind the gym when he should have been in class. The thought almost made Roger was to giggle. No, no. John wouldn’t skip class for a good snog. Still, he must have kissed someone. You don’t become this good unless you’ve had some practice. 

 

Roger deepened the kiss slowly, letting them both get a feel of it as John’s hand squeezed at his bottom. It was an odd feeling, sitting there and kissing someone. None of this was new to Roger, but most guest usually skipped this part and went right into the sexual activity. 

 

This, however, was far sexier than Roger could have imagined. He thought back to when he was a young lad, sneaking away in his tiny bed with someone from school. They’d kiss and rut against one another, two scared, sexed-up little virgins that had no idea what to do, but just wanted to get that rush of feeling back.

 

Roger was an adult now and was no longer a virgin, but still craved that rushed feeling. John pulled him closer, his hips bucking just slightly against the bed. If the man was pent up and in need of release, then Roger was more than willing to lie back and take it. So that’s exactly what he did. 

 

Pulling away, Roger crawled off John and onto the bed, going to rest back until his head hit the pillow. “Let’s have some school-yard fun, John.” He whispered, wiggling his finger to beckon the brunet forward. 

 

John followed, seeking out Roger’s lips once again. Roger wiggled around until he was beneath John, and promptly wrapped his bobby-socked covered legs around his waist, trapping him there. It didn’t take long for John to get the memo. 

 

Soon enough, their hips were pressed together and their lips were practically glued. They were kissing like there was no tomorrow and John was lazily thrusting against Roger, not so much following a rhythm but rather just seeking out the need they both left. 

 

They stayed like that for a while longer, kissing and thrusting and moaning out. John’s lips found their way back to Roger’s neck. The blond could only imagine how many marks he would find when the morning came. Foundation was exceptive, but it would be worth it in the end. Having tiny little reminders of the fun they had. 

 

John’s movements began getting a bit more rampant, a bit more jagged. His teeth were digging in a bit more, rough and sharp. He was moaning in his ear and after another long, heavy moment, John shouted his name (or the name John thought was his) before collapsing against him. 

 

It didn’t take long for Roger to realize what happened and to be honest, he was impressed. He was a professional after all and put his mouth to good work, but to know that John was able to finish by a small session filled with kisses and full frontal rubbing was quite nice. 

 

John pulled away after a moment of catching his breath, hanging his head low as he looked himself over. “God, I am so sorry.” 

 

Roger nearly missed the words, so caught up in the daze. He might not have gotten off, but he was still lost in the pleasure that came from being involved. 

 

“You didn’t . . . I feel so selfish.” John muttered, shaking his head. Roger sat up, running his fingers through his wig to fluff it up as he watched the man quietly berate himself. 

 

“John, this is about you. I want you to be selfish.” Roger stated quietly. 

 

What man would spend so much money for an hour alone with a pretty lady only to want to give that pleasure back? Sure, there were some men that found joy in getting a woman off, but those men didn’t come to the house. 

 

John shifted on the bed, ignoring the mess he had made in his jeans as he turned to look to her. “Can I . . . can I help you?” He asked carefully, reaching towards her with a timid hand. 

 

Roger shook his head, taking John’s hand in his own. “I’m fine, John. Honestly.” 

 

All right so maybe he wasn’t exactly being honest. He needed to get off and would as soon as John left, but that was his own problem to deal with.

 

Roger looked up at the clock, noticing they still had a bit of time left together. “There’s a small bathroom in the corner. You can clean yourself up.” 

 

John let out a quiet whine, pushing up so he could retreat into the bathroom to do just that. Roger moved around the room, going to light a cigarette as he plopped back onto the bed. John returned from the bathroom after a few minutes, looking flush and adorable. 

 

When he came back to the bed, Roger offered him the cigarette, watching as he wrapped his lips around the end and inhaled slowly. 

 

“You gave me a few new marks,” Roger admitted, turning his head to show off the hickey that was beginning to bloom. 

 

“I’m sorry,” John muttered, running his callous fingers over the wounds. “You must think I’m so pathetic. Getting off with a bit of a grind like a teenager. Are you sure there is nothing I can do for you.” 

 

“John, how many times must we go over this?” Rolling onto his side, Roger gave the brunet a stern look. “This is for you. All for you. When we are together, I want to solely focus on your own pleasure.” 

 

“That doesn’t sound very fair to you. Do you not gain any pleasure from your other clients?” 

 

Roger didn’t know what he should say. It really wasn’t any of John’s business what Roger did with the other guest, yet he found himself compelled to tell the truth. 

 

“I don’t . . . when I with a guest, I don’t do what the other girls do.” He confessed quietly. “I don’t let them fuck me. I’ll suck them off and jerk them off. If it’s a girl, I’ll eat them out, but I’ve never actually been physical with any guest.” 

 

Roger didn’t know what to expect from John. They had spent so much time kissing, their tongues rolling tongue, Roger wondered if John would be disgusted by him now. When he sat up, he waited for a bit of a blow-up, but it never came. 

 

“You don’t sleep with the guest?” He asked quietly. Roger shook his head. “Doesn’t that get a bit complicated?” 

 

It was in the beginning, but Roger has gotten over it. If they wanted more, then Roger would send them to the door and they could find another girl to get what they wanted. Most men didn’t mind. After all, they were still getting their rocks off. Most men were just happy to have some sort of action rather than returning home with nothing. 

 

“I’m a complicated girl, John,” Roger whispered, bringing the cigarette back to his lips to suck it down. 

 

When the knock alerting their time was up, Roger pushed off the bed, putting the cigarette out in the ashtray that was sitting on the vanity. Grabbing the bottle of perfume that sat in the corner, Roger spritzed himself twice, letting the scent settle on his skin and clothing. 

 

“I hope you enjoyed yourself,” He mentioned, going to sit back in the chair in front of the mirror. 

 

“I did.” John swallowed, going to stand up carefully. “I always do. Did . . . did you, by chance?” 

 

Roger turned away from the man, finding his gaze in the mirror. “What do you think?” He asked, raising a single, perfectly sculpted brow. 


	5. Chapter 5

It was a few days later the envelope had been dropped off. Roger didn’t have to wonder who it was from as the desk girl Mary was too eager to tell him all about it. She gushed over how polite the man was and how sweet he spoke. He gave Mary the envelopes with the promise that she’d deliver it right to Rina. 

 

Roger took the envelope and brought it to the dressing room, ripping it open and reading it carefully. The letter was handwritten in cursive, the written words of a true poet. John spoke carefully to her, expressing his desire to see her outside of her workplace. He understood that he may not see him in the same light and may only be a paying guest but John thought differently. 

 

He cared deeply for the person he had gotten to know and while it frightened him senselessly, John found himself wanting to be brave and face it head-on. Along with the letter the envelope also carried a ticket to one of the bigger venues in the city. He wrote that he’d be performing with Freddie and he wanted Rina to be here.

 

Rina specifically. John has no idea who Roger was, and that was enough to persuade Roger not to go. Roger may be convincing enough inside the house but never had he ever dressed up on the outside. He didn’t even know if he could pull it off. Shoving the envelope into his jacket pocket, Roger swore to forget about it and went on with his duties. 

 

He did forget about it, all the way up to the day of the show. It happened to be on a day that he was off from work. Roger was lounging around, cleaning up god loft when the envelope fell from the table, catching his attention. He didn’t have anything to do that night and he had to admit it would be nice to go out. 

 

It was a dangerous thought, even he had to admit it. On the off chance John recognizes him or worse, Freddie of all people, Roger knew his time at the house was finished. Roger out-weighted his choices as he got himself ready. The venue was a nice place and showing up in sweats just wasn’t an option. 

 

His hair was combed back and his suit was nice. His jacket was leather and sunglasses were on. As he handed his ticket over and walked through the place, Roger took in everything around him. This place was for the professionals, the people who knew what they were doing.

 

It was a perfect place for Freddie to perform. Roger had seen him once or twice when he jokingly put on a show at the house but that was nothing compared to this. He was a master at his own craft and Roger couldn’t help but be impressed. 

 

The rest of the band was pretty good but it was the bassist that caught Roger’s eye. John looked so different on stage. So serious and lost in his element. He was playing along like it was second nature to him, bopping along to the songs just as easily. It made Roger smile. John looked so calm and happy.

 

He was glad he came but he made sure to keep away. He knew it was ridiculous. Unless he flat out told him who he was there was no possible way of anyone putting two and two together. Roger Taylor looked and sounded different from Rina Rogers. They were two completely different people and Roger knew that. He was just a paranoid git who had no idea how to act outside of his own little world.

 

When the set ended, Roger was still sitting by the bar. He was nursing his drink, waiting for the bartender to come his way so he could pay for his tab. Someone came up beside him and ordered a drink, leaning against the bar and watching him for a moment before speaking.

 

“You that drummer that plays that the pub on fourth?” The man with wild locks of dark hair asked him. 

 

It was an odd way to describe him, but the man was right. He played the drums whenever somebody needed him and every so often his old university buddy would call on him and request that he do a bit of playing.

 

“Yeah, yeah. That’s me.” 

 

“Brian. We met a couple of times through Tim.” 

 

“May! Yes, I remember.” Roger hadn’t played with him before but he knew Brian to be a bit of a professional when it came to the guitar. He had done a bit of work with Tim before he decided it was time to branch off and do other things. “This your band?” 

 

Brian bobbed his head, wrapping his hand around the beer. “To be honest were between names right now. Surprised anybody even came to see us, we go back and forth so much it must be hard to keep up.”

 

“You played well mate,”

 

“We try, we certainly do,” Brian mentioned, sipping at his beer. “What about you? Do you play solo or are you currently in a group?”

 

They went back and forth between talking about their music styles and Roger’s lack of professionalism in the music industry. It felt good to have somebody to talk about this with and Roger almost forgot how much he enjoyed Brian’s company. The conversation came to a haunt however when Brian’s lead vocalist approached then, eager to meet someone new, and a possible fan.

 

Brian introduces him and to his surprise, Freddie knew all about him. “Brian has gone on about you for a while darling. We’re in the need of a drummer and your name kept popping up though he had no way of finding you. And now you’re here! Isn’t fate funny that way?”

 

“Where is Deacy?” Brian asked, looking over Freddie’s shoulder.

 

“Off trying to find his lady love, of course,” Freddie replied, a sharp roll of his eyes cutting through as he took hold of Brian’s drink, not even bothering to order his own.

 

Roger kept his sunglasses on, deciding it was just too dangerous. While he knew he looked nothing like the lady he pretended to be, having Freddie so close to him was just too nerve-wracking. He was sure he looked stupid; sunglasses covering his face inside of a venue where the lights were already low.

 

Roger didn’t care. He just sipped at his drink, nearly choking on it when John of all people approached. 

 

“Ah, there he is! Any luck, Deaks?”

 

“Nothing yet, though the usher said the ticket number was handed over.”

 

“I am sure she is here somewhere, daring. Now come! Meet Brian’s friend.” Freddie turned suddenly, watching Roger intensely. “I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”

 

“Roger,” the blond muttered, keeping his face turned the other way.

 

Freddie clapped a hand onto his back, showing him off proudly to John. “Roger! He’s a drummer, and apparently is so good that even our dear Tim comes out of forced retirement to call upon his genius.”

 

“It’s nice to meet you,” John mentioned, nodding over to him. 

 

Roger hummed, his lips wrapped around the edge of his glass. He caught sight of John (or Deacy as the other two men called him) turning to face away, his eyes scanning along with the crowd. Roger knew what he was doing: searching for a person he would never find. 

 

This was a terrible idea and Roger hates himself for doing it. Rather than get the attention of the bartender, Roger slapped down the money he had pulled from his wallet. It was more than he owed, but the man could enjoy the tip. Hopping down from the bar, Roger offered a half-assed goodbye to the men, deciding to leave while he still had the chance.

 

Making his way outside, Roger searched his pockets for a cigarette, walking as he lit it up. He stopped at the corner, waiting for the light to chance as he filled his lungs with smoke. He counted the seconds, trying to time it right only to be held back at someone calling his name. 

 

Brian, with his long legs, hurried over to him, speaking a mile a minute. He wanted to make sure Roger thoroughly enjoy himself at the show and was hoping to grab his number so they could speak on another night. 

 

“Freddie is pretty desperate to find another drummer and from what I’ve heard, you seem to know what you are doing. Perhaps you could show the guys a thing or two?” 

 

“I’m not really looking to join a band,” Roger told him, turning his head to see the walk-now sign changing and more cars crossing. 

 

“I don’t think anybody looks to join a band. Sometimes it just happens.” Brian laughed, though it was obvious what he was hoping for. 

 

Roger, knowing the light would change again, rattled off his phone number. Brian took it all in, obviously using his photogenic memory to save it until he could write it down. With a pat on the shoulder, Roger turned and jogged out of sight, glad to finally be out of the situation. 

 

<3

 

Roger was sitting at his vanity, running the brush along with his wig. It was easier to style it when it was off his head, but he had finished up with a guest and was waiting for the next to arrive and didn’t want to take the chance of a slip-up. He was humming along to a song that was stuck in his head, singing softly to himself. 

 

He never did well when it came to writing his own music, though he knew deep down he had some good ideas just waiting to slip through. He enjoyed listening to the radio on a cool spring afternoon, nursing a cold beer as he sat by the water. 

 

Tonight he was in a tiny little room that was made up to look like it was meant for a girl half his age. He didn’t care in the least, however. He was in a good move, having made a good tip without having to do much work. A virgin had come to the club, someone so young and shy that Roger barely knew what to do with them. As it turned out, all the lad needed was a bit of a handy to get him going. 

 

He left walking on air and tipped Roger far more than he had ever been given. Roger was almost envious of when he came back and actually popped his cherry; lord knows the girl would be given a ring by that point. 

 

Roger was painting his nails when the door opened, still singing along with the song that had been on his mind for the past few days now. He didn’t think much of it. It was a good song and Roger appreciated good music. 

 

Roger lifted his hand to blow at the wet paint when a voice caught his attention. 

 

“That’s _my_ song.”

 

Roger looked up in the mirror, catching John’s eyes. “What are you doing here?” He asked, knowing damn well it was a stupid question. John came often enough now for Roger to realize he’d be sticking around for the time being. 

 

It had been almost a week since their last session together and just a few days from when Roger went to see him perform. He had spoken to Brian on the phone since then and while the guitarist seemed all too eager to introduce him to the band on a more professional level, Roger held back.

 

The blond was itching to play again, but he knew better than to just right into it. Especially when the other two members of the band knew Roger on a more intimate level. Roger had told himself never to mix business with pleasure, though he was fairly certain he was losing sight of that intake whenever John walked through the door. 

 

“You’re singing my song. You came to my show.” John spoke out, his words breathless as he closed the door behind him.

 

Roger didn’t have an excuse. It wasn’t like he had heard the song on the radio and lie about it. He heard it the same night he saw him play. He had no idea that John had been the one to write it, especially since Freddie was so good at making the performance seem all about him. 

 

“It . . . it’s a lovely song, John. You’re very talented.” Roger proclaimed, standing to his feet. 

 

John came forward, his eyes tight and serious. Roger didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this. John moved forward until Roger was pressed back against the vanity. Without a wasted moment, he pushed him up to sit on it, taking hold of his face so he could kiss him deeply. 

 

Gone were the gentle kisses of a curious lad and in came the slapping of tongues that made Roger’s toes curl in his heels. Roger held onto John, one hand gripping the fabric of his shirt with the other clutched at his shoulder. 

 

The movements caused Roger to knock half of his belongings from the vanity onto the floor and that included the open bottle of nail polish, which was currently staining the carpet. Deep in his mind, he knew he had split worse things on it and chose to ignore it and focus on the most important things at hand.

 

John kissed him until their lungs ached, but continued to hold onto him even when he pulled back. His nose ran along Roger’s cheek, their foreheads pressed together as they breathed in unison. John inhaled slowly, taking in the smell of Roger’s perfume and sweat. “You came,” He whispered as if trying to convince himself it was true. “Why didn’t you see me? I wanted to see you.” 

 

“I…” Roger’s words got caught in his throat, which was tightening by the second. “I’m sorry.” 

 

John took one of Roger’s hand in his own, lacing their fingers together slowly. “Let me see you.” He requested softly. “Please. I know . . . this is against the rules but I can’t fight this anymore. These feelings I have for you — I know you feel them too.” 

 

He never had this issue before. Never actually found himself liking one of the guests before. He was never nervous around them, but John was no longer some guest. Roger had gone out of his way to see John outside of the club and even if John had no idea he was there, the trip was still made. The effort was still placed. 

 

“John . . . I can’t.” 

 

He wanted to. God, did he want to? But how would it work? Roger wasn’t Rina. He wasn’t this delicate little gal with long blond hair. He was a grown man who was very good at playing pretend. Roger hungered for John, to be with him physically but John wouldn’t want Roger. He wanted Rina. Wanted to have her wrapped up in his arms, in bed or upon the vanity as he had him right now. 

 

But that was impossible. Rina didn’t exist. Not really. 

 

“Is it — did I get it all confused?” John asked, pulling back suddenly. 

 

Roger knew the look on his face. Many men who came to the house often found themselves with the same look on their face. It came with the realization that all of this was fake. That the affection the ladies were given them were all used to get one thing: money. 

 

It was their job to make the men feel wanted and when they realized that, well it was easy to get hurt even if they should have been more aware when they first walked in. 

 

Normally Roger would have no problem patting the man on the shoulder and saying he still enjoyed their time together, but it meant nothing to him. That would work constantly, but not now. 

 

John did mean something to him and it was bloody terrifying. 

 

“No. No, John. You didn’t get anything confused.” Roger told him softly. “It’s complicated. I can’t explain it.” 

 

“Could you try?” John asked, looking like a puppy who had been kicked in the stomach. 

 

How could Roger try without just spitting it all out? That he was a grown man with a penis and Adam's apple. Roger thought for a small moment that perhaps that was exactly what he should do. Blurt it out right then and there, that way John could know the truth and never return. It would end all this fuckery in an instant. 

 

Before Roger could even open his mouth to say anything, John was kissing him again. It wasn’t fair how good he was at that. Most men weren’t good kisses, they didn’t need to be. So long as they could use their cock, Roger could get by but John knew what he was doing when it came to using his mouth.

 

John’s hand moved along the tights of Roger’s leg and the blond was forced out of his haze to spot him from reaching for something he wouldn’t find. 

 

“John please,” He muttered in a desperately hushed voice. 

 

“I want to make you feel good. I can do that for you.” 

 

Roger had no doubt in his mind that John could make him feel many things, but it wasn’t going to happen. 

 

“Just keep kissing me,” Roger insisted. If they were going to have this small moment, then they should at least make the most of it. 

 

John did just that. He pushed Roger back up against the vanity, allowing the blond to practically wrap himself around him as they kissed and kissed. John’s hand traveled around his body, at hips, on the porch of his ass, and to the nap of his neck. He kissed along his neck to nip and suck and mark Roger’s skin all once again. 

 

Roger wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to handle this. He grew harder under his skirt, and while he had gotten very good at keeping his own excitement down, feeling John’s hands and lips on him was too much for the blond to handle. 

 

When the knock came, they both ignored it. And then when the second knock came, they ignored it again. Only when the third knock, one that would bring a security guard ready to drag away any guest refusing to leave. 

 

Finally, Roger pushed John away, their lips swollen and red. “You have to go,” He whispered heavily to him. 

 

John bobbed his head, taking a few steps back through their gaze never broke. Roger pushed himself off the vanity, going to sit back in the seat. “John,” He muttered quietly. He smoothed out his skirt, trying his best to keep his gaze. “Please, don’t come back anymore.” 

 

It was a visible blow to them both. John didn’t say a word and instead just bobbed his head. He left the room, closing the door behind him with a bang. Roger slumped back in his chair, his arms wrapping his arms around his stomach. He felt tired and queasy and utterly heartbroken. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I don't exactly know what era this is supposed to be. Originally, I kept it open to interpretation, hence why I never mentioned the length of John's hair. The song that the fic is named after obviously came out in the late '80s, so you could pinpoint it like that or you could honestly make it whatever you want it to be. 
> 
> Regardless, I have no idea what song Roger is singing to himself! Pick your favorite song written by John and go with that!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this has been fun, hasn't it? We have about 3 more chapters to go! I apologize for breaking your hearts, but be aware, this technique should be post TOMORROW but I am making it a day earlier because I care so much about your well beings.
> 
> Clarification: John has no idea "Rina" is a guy. Roger is very good at pretending to be a girl. Light voice, girlish figure, and he tucks his dick real good, okay?

John never returned to the house, which should have been good. It was what Roger asked of him. John listened and didn’t cling, he didn’t fight it. He didn’t try to convince Roger to give it another shot, give it a real shot.

 

He didn’t come back to the house and after two weeks, Roger was fairly certain he had given up. And that was good. Roger knew that was good. That it was for the best. John didn’t care about him. No, he liked the pretty girl he pretended to be. He didn’t know anything about Roger as a person, so it really was better this way. 

 

Roger focused on other things, like his guest and his left outside of the house. He had another set, thanks to Tim. He didn’t rehearse with the man due to conflicting to schedules, but that didn’t matter. Roger knew what he was doing and even if he preferred to get a feel of the other members beforehand, he could play whatever they wanted him to play. 

 

And play he did. He read the music that Tim wanted to perform and played along, singing softly to the songs and smiling to the crowd every now and then. He really did miss playing. He sometimes forgot how much effort he had put into the instrument. He did well on guitar as well, but the drums would always be his calling card. 

 

When the set was over, Roger went to the bar, sipping slowly at the free drinks that had been supplied for him. A small perk of performing. A few people came up to him, complimenting his performance and even a few came to flirt, but Roger paid them no mind. 

 

He had the next two days off. Sex was the last thing on his mind. He just waited to sit back, drink something strong, and enjoy his night.

 

Roger was halfway through doing just that when Freddie of all people approached him. He rambled on about how well the show went, making sure to speak a bit cruel about Tim’s personal performance. Brian had mentioned a time or two that the men didn’t exactly see eye to eye. Roger didn’t bother getting into it much. Wasn’t his war to fight, you know? 

 

“Brian here dragged me out demanding that I see you play and I must admit, it was worth the trip,” Freddie mentioned, sitting cross-legged on the seat beside him. “You have to play with us sometime. We’re in dire — and I mean _dire_ — need of a drummer.”

 

“I’m not really looking to play with anyone,” Roger confessed to Freddie. “I play for fun. Thats it.” 

 

“Well, we have fun! Brian! Tell Roger how much fun we have.” 

 

Brian came forward, beer in hand as he approached. “Oh yeah, loads of fun.” 

 

“See! You should have fun with us, Roger.” Freddie insisted, moving closer to him. 

 

Roger hummed, keeping his eyes low. He still had to play it cool around Freddie. Who really knew if the man could see through the mask Roger was trying to wear, could sense him for who he truly was. 

 

“I’ll pass mate, but thanks for the offer.” 

 

Freddie groaned, slamming his hand down on the bar. “Dammit Roger, this is a chance of a lifetime!” Freddie flat out whined. “We’re on the edge of a breakthrough and all we need now is for a man with drum sticks in his hands. You could be our man!” 

 

“I’m no one's man, Freddie,” Roger replied, shifting away from him. 

 

It was tempting. Incredibly so. Sure, he wasn’t looking to join a band, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t one hundred percent disinterested in being in one. Roger loved playing and while Tim was kind enough to give him the chance, it would be nice to have a bit of normalcy to his playing. 

 

“Just one session,” Freddie requested. “Come on! We’ll jam for a bit and then we’ll grab a drink. If you absolutely hate it, then I swear, we’ll never bother you again.” Freddie placed his hand over his chest, over his heart. 

 

It was an amusing sight, that much was for sure. Freddie Mercury asking him to do something. Roger never thought he’d see the day it happens outside of the playhouse. 

 

Roger knew the smart thing would be to say no. Just say no and cut it all off and stick to his casual playing now, but he couldn’t help himself. The itch to play was just too strong or perhaps Freddie was just far too percussive. Roger wasn’t too sure, but in the end, he agreed. 

 

Perhaps against his better judgment, he agreed.

 

Three days later, he’s seated behind a drum set. A very nice drum set. Far nicer than Roger ever played before. It was a real studio drum set and Roger felt as though he wasn’t worthy for such a thing. 

 

He kept himself at bay, remembering what he was getting himself into. The last time he had seen John, both their hearts had been crushed with the terrible realization that they would never work as anything out in the real world. Here he was, standing off to the side, bass in hand as he rocked from one foot to the other. 

 

Roger kept his sunglasses on, even while inside. And made sure he dressed as masculine as he could. Denim on denim with a plaid shirt and his hair tussled all about. He looked like a real mans-man and he didn’t speak unless spoken to and even then he kept his tone lower than usual. 

 

He was sure it was all ridiculous, but he didn’t care. Too much was going on for this to matter. When Freddie went over the songs he wanted him to practice, Roger got a quick hand at it. He was a fast learner and to his surprise, the songs were easy to pick up. There were a few times when Roger got to sing along and he had to admit, they all sounded very good together. 

 

When the two hours were over, the men were all sweaty and bouncing with excitement. Brian brought over some beers from the fridge, agreeing with Freddie as the older man babbled on and on about how fantastic it was to actually play with someone who knew what he was doing. 

 

Right then and there, Freddie and Brian began tempting Roger with the possibility of a future in the band. They had finally come up with a name for themselves — an outrageous one at that — and now all they needed was the final member. 

 

Roger did his best to refuse, but the two men worked together to shove all these ideas in Roger’s head. Playing with Freddie would be the chance of a lifetime, that much was true. If Freddie knew anything, it was a good performance and if working with Freddie brought anything, it would be recognized and lots and lots of money. 

 

And Roger liked money. Money meant doing anything he wanted. Even letting go of the life he had now. He made good money as Rina, but not enough to let it go. Having his name on a hit record would give Roger enough to let it all go and move on to better things.

 

So he agreed for the second time. He didn’t know what to except. He had just joined a band that was preparing to cut a record and sell it out to the world. They had a label and a manager and here he was, slipping in and joining them without another thought. It was so wild and unimaginable. Roger didn’t know what to think. 

 

“Don’t mind him,” Brian muttered as John left the room when the session was over. “He’s been a bit testy the past few weeks.” 

 

“Doesn’t bother me,” Roger muttered, bringing his beer to his lips. He would be lying if he said not speaking to John would be terrible, but he knew deep down it was for the best. Any chance that he could see through the mask he wore and realize exactly who he was wouldn’t make for a good time. Especially now if the two were going to be bloody bandmates! 

 

“Poor man is going through a bit of a breakup,” Freddie explained, going to sit cross-legged across from the other two on the floor. “I told him to write a few songs and allow the heartbreak to inspire him, but all he has done is more about. Tragic really.” 

 

“Do you have a girl, Roger?” Brian asked between sips of his half-empty bottle. Roger shook his head. It was true after all. He was as single as they came. “Just like the rest of us then. It’s better that way. More time to focus on the music.” 

 

“Speak for yourself, Brian. Some of us would like to have someone to go home to.” Freddie comments, leaning back to take a swig of his drink. 

 

“You mean someone other than a cat?” Brian asked, laughing as Freddie shot him the finger. 

 

The three sat drinking and discussing songs until the sun went down. Roger hadn’t remembered feeling so comfortable around a group of men before. He didn’t have many friends outside his coworkers and while having friends of the opposite sex was nice, there was nothing quite like having a bunch of male friends to just sit and drink with. 

 

Freddie made a schedule for them to practice with until the time came to record. Brian warned Roger to just go along with it, knowing that arguing with Freddie would be fruitless. Truth was, Roger had no point to argue. He was happy to be a part of something. 

 

They practice every day for a week and a half. Freddie wanted their sound to be strong and would have preferred to practice even more, but their manager insisted that they had to get going on the recording. 

 

Roger worked well into the night and arrived bright and easy for every practice. It was rough in the beginning, but he got used to it over time. He would sleep during breaks, wrapping up on the floor or on the couch if it was free. He’d arrive at the house a bit earlier to grab a small nap before any guest arrived. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to sleep on a bed where people had previous fornicated on, but he had no time to judge. 

 

When it came time to record, Roger did everything that was asked of him. None of the songs were his, but Freddie asked him to help with a few rewrites. They added a few more drum solos and solo vocal parts on his end. He was honored to be a part of it, though there was still one thing that he could not ignore. 

 

John. 

 

They barely said a word to one another since he joined the band and while that should have been for the best, Roger had to admit that it was quite gut-wrenching to stand so close to the man without saying a word. 

 

He tried a time or two, which was a dangerous game to play, but Roger had never been known to play well. John spoke when he was spoken to, but they never had full conversations. Usually, just comment here and there. 

 

Brian insisted that John was a bit more professional than the others and took the recording incredibly seriously. Roger was fairly certain it was just an excuse to help the sting of John obviously not liking him. 

 

That wasn’t a sting that anyone could soften though. Recording an album was meant to be fun and exciting, but it was bittersweet as well. 

 

Roger sat outside the studio as Brian and Freddie worked on their solos. He was sucking down one of his cigarettes, knowing he wasn’t very useful at the moment. He wouldn’t leave unless he was told they were finished. 

 

So sitting outside on the green grass and waiting around until he was needed would do for the time being. He didn’t mind so much. He liked the fresh air. Liked being out and around somewhere different. By his feet was a tiny portable radio that was currently playing the top 40’s; the sound currently muffling the small echoes from inside the studio. 

 

Roger turned when he heard the door open, excepting to see Brian or Freddie storming out in a huff, but instead, it was John, lazily making his way outside to join him. Roger scrambled to push his sunglasses off his head, placing them over his eyes easily as he leaned back, cigarette hanging in his mouth casually as John came to sit beside him. 

 

“They’re at it again,” John muttered softly. “They do that often, you know. They get along great, but both can be quite thickheaded when it comes to music.” 

 

Roger hummed, keeping his head facing forward, his cigarette in his mouth. 

 

“We haven’t really had a chance to speak since you’ve joined. I hope you do not think badly of me. I’m not much of an open book.” 

 

“It’s fine, John,” Roger muttered quietly, peeping over in the corner of his eye to look at the other man.

 

John pulled out a cigarette of his own, his lips wrapping around it as he sucked it down slowly. Roger missed those lips, having gotten used to the softness of them. Roger was so used to using his mouth for someone else pleasure, it was nice to feel something good on his end for once. 

 

But those times were over. John wasn’t Roger’s guest, but his bandmate. Roger looked forward once again, finishing his cigarette as they sat together in the sun. To his surprise, the silence didn’t last much longer. John was making a bit of small talk, trying to get to know him. 

 

They spoke about their respected musical passions. They were different, with John being a big fan of disco and Roger holding strong onto good old fashioned rock and roll. Roger wondered if that would come up later on if the band actually made it big, but didn’t question it. 

 

It was easy to talk to him, whether as Roger or Rina. John was a likable person, that much was easy to tell. Once he opened up, he had a lot to say and Roger was a pretty good listener when he wanted to be. 

 

The conversation went from music to live outside of the studio. John currently worked in electric and Roger just said entertainment. After all, it wasn’t much of a lie. Roger joked how funny it would be, looking back a few years from now if it all worked out. They could look back on their day jobs and know that it was just something to do to make money until their talent was finally recognized. 

 

“You sound like Freddie,” John laughed, putting his cigarette out on the concrete. 

 

“He has that effect on people,” Roger shrugged off, flicking his own cigarette as he stood.

“Shall we head back inside, see if we’re needed?” 

 

“Doubtful. They can go at it for hours.” John sighed. 

 

Neither needed to bother heading back inside, as the moment they both stood, Freddie was storming out of the studio. Roger excepted the worst but found that he was smiling with Brian close behind him as he approached the other two men. 

 

“Gentleman! Get your club shoes on, we’re going out!” 

 

Turns out, Freddie was known for cutting out when the stress of the music got to him. Sometimes he and Brian or Brian and John would go at it about this track or that lyric and they needed to get away for a small while. 

 

Pubs were more of Roger’s style, but Freddie wanted to dance. He was living single currently and found that sometimes, the best inspiration came after grabbing a partner and heading to the dance floor. 

 

Roger hung back by the bar, downing some drink that was colorful and fun. He wasn’t much of a dancer, not really. He could dance and he had for his other career path, but as Roger, he preferred to just sit back and enjoy the melodies. 

 

Brian was off with some pretty blonde he had picked up and Freddie was completely out of sight. The only other person by the bar was John, who was sitting a few seats down from Roger. He thought about staying where he was, but Roger couldn’t help himself. 

 

Their relationship had ended in such a harsh way and truth be told, he missed the man. Against his better judgment, he moved down the lane, going to sit next to John. 

 

“Having fun?” He called over the music. 

 

“Do you ever take those things off?” John asked, using the hand that wasn’t holding his drink to gesture to Roger’s sunglasses. 

 

He knew it was silly. Who the hell wore sunglasses inside? Roger was paranoid that somehow, someway, Freddie or even John would take one look into his eyes and know who he really was. So he kept them down. 

 

“Sensitive to lights. Lots of flashes,” Roger mentioned, waving at the changing technicolor of the dance floor. 

 

John didn’t say anything else. He brought his drink to his mouth, sipping at it slowly. He wondered what was going on inside the man's mind. If it was a different place, a different time, and Roger was a different person, they would be wrapped up on a slightly uncomfortable bed and John would be spilling his heart out to him. 

 

But instead, they were sitting on hard stools, in the middle of a bloody disco, both feeling utterly bleak and bored. 

 

Roger wanted to carry on a conversation, perhaps even suggest they head out back to where the music wasn’t completely booming. He opened his mouth, ready to make such an offer when a poppy little number that Roger had heard time and time again came on over the speakers. Normally Roger would just ignore it; he much preferred rock compared to this generic dance music, but the way John perked out at the sound of it made another idea slip into the blond’s mind. 

 

“Care for a spin, Mr. Deacon?” Roger asked, perking a golden eyebrow over the edge of the top rim of his sunglass. 

 

“I’m not much of a dancer,” John answered timidly. 

 

Roger knew differently. He’s seen John dance in many different forms, whether it was on stage during a performance or with him at the house. He stood before the man, swaying to the beat of the music.

 

“Oh, I don’t believe that for a single minute!” Roger insisted, holding his hand out for John to take. 

 

Even with the sunglasses blocking their way, the two men locked eyes and to Roger’s surprise, John took his hand, allowing himself to be dragged onto the dance floor. 

 

Roger forgot what it was like to dance so freely, without not trying to entrance a partner or turn a guest on. He was just moving to the music, not giving a single damn how utterly ridiculous it must seem. Then again, in a place like this, two men dancing together wasn’t the strangest sight. 

 

John seemed to relax a bit around him, allowing the music to take over his senses so he could dance along. He was guarded, like always, but Roger knew if anything could relax the man, it was music. Roger moved closer, placing a daring hand along John’s waist as he circled him playfully. 

 

Everything about this was different from their first dance. Just two grown men dancing without a single care. Using his spare hand, he pulled John forward, twisting him about he would a female partner. John got him back, pulling him in and out bravely. 

 

Both men were laughing up a storm, smiling like absolute loons, but neither seemed to care. As the song came to an end, Roger pulled John into him, his green eyes bright behind his sunglasses as they slammed together.

 

“Sorry. Sometimes I forget my own strength,” Roger apologized. 

 

“It’s fine, Rog.” John murmured, staying close to Roger for a moment as the song died down and another one began to play. He watched the brunet, his eyes still hidden behind the sunglasses. “What . . . what cologne are you wearing?” He asked suddenly. 

 

Roger had to think for a moment. He wasn’t wearing any cologne. He didn’t own any. Deodorant sure, but no real body sprays or anything of the sort. 

 

“I . . . I’m not too sure.” He told him. 

 

“I know that scent,” John mentioned over the music, rambling off the name of the perfume that was currently locked away at the house with the rest of his schoolgirl uniform. 

 

“Oh! That. Friend of mine wears it. Must have lingered onto me.” Roger shrugs, running his fingers through his hair. 

 

John stepped away, bobbing his head. An expression that Roger couldn’t name crossed along his face and he swallowed hard, turning from Roger and walking through the dance floor until he was out of sight, leaving Roger alone, staring after him in defeat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song they dance to in the club is 'Heaven Is A Place On Earth" by Belinda Carlisle, which fucking slaps and John Deacon would definitely enjoy dancing to -- fight me if you disagree.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uploading this a day early as an Easter/Passover gift. And if you don't celebrate, well then enjoy this surprise.

The album was a hit. 

 

How could it not be? With Freddie at the helm, anything was possible. It all seemed like some sort of dream. Sure, they talked about it, laying down the tracks and performing a few songs at shows. Roger play in public before, so it was no different now. Freddie was wild as a front man. So unlike Tim who just stood there and sang with his guitar at hand.

 

Freddie danced and moved like he owned the stage and the truth was, he did. He was completely and utterly in control. Roger was stuck behind the drum set, but he didn’t mind. He could still sing and play without issue and Freddie always made sure he got his well-deserved attention. 

 

He made it very clear that it wasn’t the Freddie Mercury show and they were just doing a backup. They were in this together. Queen (that was the name they had settled one), was a unit. They were a family. And they were going to make it big. 

 

Hearing themselves on the radio was wild, to say the least. Brian nearly crashed the van the first time it happened and they had to pull over to stop so they could run around like a bunch of loons who escaped from the bin. It was nothing like they had ever imagined and Roger was living on cloud nine. 

 

He was still at the house, but not as often as he had been. He cut the days down to three instead of five, allowing him more time to rest and relax. The record was selling, but the management was working on dates and places for tours. 

 

God, he was going on tour. How the bloody fuck did that happen?! Playing at clubs and schools was one thing, but actual paying gigs where people wanted to see them? Fuck, it didn’t feel real. Like this was some strange dream that he would eventually wake home. 

 

Freddie wanted to celebrate, as he always had. Freddie could open a jar of peanut butter and he’d call for a celebration. Roger just went along with it, as Roger had suggested. Whether it was a farewell party or just an all around get together, nobody knew but nobody really cared either. 

 

So long as there were music and drinks and to some, a few lines, then they’d check it out. Roger waited for the details to come, only to find out about it while at work one night. It was slow and no guest had come looking for him, so he was sitting around in the room they had provided, curling his wig to get the adorable ringlets the men liked to tug on. 

 

The owner of the house entered, explaining that once again, they had a big spender coming to throw a bit of a gathering. Roger nearly fell off his seat when she mentioned Freddie’s name. He tried to get out of it, demanding that no, no. He just couldn’t do another party. His throat would hurt and he would be completely useless to any guest who wanted to have a bit of fun. 

 

As it turned out, Freddie requested Rina personally. Roger wasn’t surprised by this, but that also meant there was no way he’d be able to get out of it. Not unless Freddie himself decided he didn’t want Rina there, which was highly unlikely. 

 

Roger tried his best to figure out what he wanted to do. He thought about calling in ill, but he knew that wasn’t a wise choice. Even if he wanted out, he didn’t want to get on the nerves of the owner of the house. After all, she had done so much for Roger in the time he has been working there. 

 

No, no. This would have to be handled personally. 

 

Roger found Freddie at the studio and demanded that they speak in private. He agreed and the moment the door was shut, Freddie went rambling on about how he downright refused to listen to Roger explain why he wanted to leave the band. 

 

“The album is made, dear. You can’t jump ship now!” 

 

“I’m not leaving the band, Fred.” Roger insisted, his hands falling to his hips. “I have to speak to you about the party you’re throwing.”

 

“Oh.” Freddie paused, looking visibly taken back by his words. “Who told you? I haven’t even released the date yet, darling. Rest assured, you’ll be invited.” 

 

“I’m going to be working that night, Fred.” 

 

“Working? Well, that won’t do. I simply won’t allow it. Call your boss and tell them you’re not coming in. We have a tour to celebrate, Roger!” 

 

“Freddie. Sit down.” Roger gestured toward the couch. The older man looked confused once again but did as was instructed. “You’re throwing the part at Malina’s Mansion, yes? I know because I found out from Malina. I work there. I’m one of her girls.” 

 

Roger watched as Freddie processed the words he spoke; an amused smile coming across Freddie’s face when it was his turn to speak. “Did Brian put you up to this?” 

 

“I’m Rina, Freddie!” Roger flat out snapped. “Long blond hair? Pretty skirt with stockings and heels? Bloody hell, do you want me to speak like her?”

 

“You mean to tell me that you dress up as a woman and work at a pleasure house?” Freddie asked, leaning back in his seat. “Certainly not the oldest profession.” 

 

Roger pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. “I won’t explain myself, Fred. It’s what I do. It’s a way to make money.” 

 

“You don’t have to tell me all the gory details, darling. Write a song about it if you must, but your business is your business.” 

 

“You won’t tell the others?” Roger asked, raising a brow to him. 

 

“Now why would I go and do a thing like that? I like to gossip Roger, but I’d never do something so cruel.”

 

“Thank you, Fred.” 

 

“Shame you won’t be able to fully enjoy the party, but at least you’ll be paid, yes?” 

 

Roger had momentarily forgotten about the party. With Freddie taking the truth so easily, it slipped his mind just as quick. “You can’t let John go to the party,” Roger said bluntly. 

 

“Now why is that? My parties are for everybody, Roger.” 

 

Roger didn’t know if he was in the right place to say this, knowing that it was John’s life as well as his own. Roger didn’t want to overstep and tell Freddie something that John may not have wanted him to know, but what other choice did he have?

 

He explained the whole situation. All the way from the beginning, back at Freddie’s last party to when he basically shunned John from ever returning. John had no idea about the truth and Roger was fairly certain if he did return, then he’d be able to see through the makeup and the wig and know who Rina really was. 

 

“I thought something had gone on between you two,” Freddie mentioned, wagging a finger his way. “He really has been down on the dumps lately. He perked up just a bit after you joined, but now he is back to being the same old pouty Deacy.” 

 

“I can’t explain it. We have this connection. I’m sure that sounds ridiculous.” 

 

“Of course it is, but love, in general, is wildly ridiculous, darling.” Freddie waved him away, though his words were as raw and true as ever. “You could talk to him, you know.” 

 

“Freddie, we just put out a record and are planning to go on tour. Do you understand what could happen if he took it negatively? That would be the end of Queen before it even truly began.” 

 

“Perhaps. But what if he took it positively?” 

 

Roger shook his head. It was practically impossible for him to imagine such a thing. Who could ever take news like this in a good light? Other than Freddie Mercury, that is. 

 

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t come, but on one condition,” Freddie told him, standing from the couch. “You plan to end this, yes? You told Brian how much you hope to quit your day job once the money comes rolling in.” Roger bobbed in response. “When that time comes? Put this behind you and focus on our future, yes? No looking back, only forward.” 

 

“Right,” Roger muttered, sighing as Freddie patted his shoulder and walked out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we have two more chapters until the end. How do you think the party will go?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating early due to the high demand -- remember kids, cyberbullying works.

The party was in full swing, an utter success as excepted. Freddie Mercury didn’t throw boring parties, that was like saying the Pope didn’t offer forgiveness. It wasn’t possible darling! Roger always wondered how the man could afford to throw such events. The house wasn’t cheap after all. Freddie confessed that he usually did it on the record labels dime. After all, if they wanted him to continue to pump out hit after hit, then they’d have to offer something in return. 

Roger was in full attire as excepted. He felt ridiculous, going to a party to celebrate his own bloody album but not even being able to attend in his own blood clothing. Freddie insisted this was nothing more than a goodbye party to the girl Roger once was. After tonight, they’d be preparing to leave for tour and Roger would never have to put on the black skirt and bobby socks again. 

He would miss it to a degree, but the chance to be off and not worry about money any longer, to not have to get down on his knees and praise a perfect strange was too good to be true. 

He steered clear of anybody that could have noticed him. There were a few people from the label sticking around, hoping to find a lovely lady to take them upstairs. Roger had more or less insisted that the other girls in the house take over and keep them at bay. The women were more than eager to do so, knowing that these men had their pockets lined with cash, ready to have the time of their lives. 

He avoided Brian excessively, always making sure they were on other sides of the room. Freddie had been a lifesaver and kept shoving the curly haired man this way and that way, while also making sure Roger was enjoying himself. 

He teased him for a bit in the beginning but offered him a shot and a toast right after. Roger just counted down the hours until the party would be over and he could put the costume away for the last time. He flirted a bit, giggling and twisting his finger around his blond lock of hair. He had no plans of taking anyone upstairs. He didn’t want to. Sure, he could’ve said goodbye to Rina with one last night of fun, but it just wasn’t worth it anymore. 

He wanted the night to end and he wanted the wig in the box, locked away and out of sight for all eternity. At some point of the night, Roger made his way outside for a smoke, the cool air hitting his skin as he stood in the moonlight.

Parties like these used to be so much fun, but this one was utterly draining. He was putting on a good show, trying so damn hard to make sure no one saw through the mask that he wasn’t even enjoying himself. He looked forward to the next party that Freddie would throw for the band, the one he could actively enjoy and be a part of.

Roger turned to put his cigarette out and make his way back inside for the last few hours of the party when he caught sight of a familiar face standing in the doorway. Freddie had promised that John had no idea about the party, reassuring him endlessly that he wasn’t going to be there. 

As it turned out, Freddie Mercury didn’t know as much as he thought he did.

“John,” Roger muttered, quickly turning away to hide his face in the shadows. “What are you doing here?” 

“I’m in Freddie’s band,” John stated somberly. “My mate — the guitarist I told you about — he mentioned everyone would be here tonight. Seems my frontman didn’t think to offer me a proper invitation.” 

He sounded so hurt, so bothered. John may not be one to enjoy a party, but not being invited was just plain cruel. Roger felt a pang of weighted guilt hit him in the chest, knowing that it was all his fault. He had asked Freddie to keep John at bay and now there was a small rift creating between them. 

“I didn’t come here to bother you,” John confessed quietly. “Maybe I shouldn’t have even come at all. I just had to see you.” 

“Well, you saw me.” Roger knew it was short and bitter, but what else could he do? They were bandmates! He couldn’t continue to play this little game with him. He had to push John away and keep him at bay until he could leave this all behind him.

John took a few steps closer, approaching carefully. Roger kept his selves in the shadows, refusing to look at him fully. 

“You look beautiful,” John spoke softly. “You always do, but there is something different now.” 

“Nothing different, John. I’m the exact same as I was before.” Roger answered. 

It was true. He wasn’t wearing anything spectacular. Same pretty skirt and tights. Same curls and bows in his wig. He looked like the pretty girl who skipped class to come and have some fun. That was all. 

“I have to go inside. They’ll be missing me.” Roger turned, moving past John so he could head back inside. He would go upstairs alone and lock himself away for the rest of the night. If anybody questioned it, he’d feign illness. 

“He’s not here,” John said as he passed. “My new bandmate. I know he’s been to see you. I . . . I know I have no right to be jealous.” 

“What are you going on about?” Roger stopped, turning to look to John. 

“The Drummer. He smells like you. Same old style perfume spritz. I’ve visited you enough to recognize it, Rina and no one else has that perfume.” John looked to the ground, his arms crossing tightly over his chest as if to protect himself from his own words. “It lingers on him. Every single rehearsal has been torture. I’m so bloody close to him but he smells just like you.” 

Roger was laughing then. Laughing like a bloody madman. It was ridiculous. Out of all the things for John to sense, of course, it would be that bloody perfume. Roger was sure there were other people out there wearing the same kind, but for John to cross that off and automatically go into believing that Roger was seeing Rina. 

Well, it was just too good to be true. Too wild to ignore. No, no. This was not what Roger had planned. This was not how he wanted things to turn out. 

“I’m not . . . Roger isn’t my guest, John.”

“You know his name,” John muttered, his expression falling deeply. 

“Of course I know his name!” Roger didn’t want to do this, but what choice did he have? He couldn’t keep running, he couldn’t keep pretending. He was so bloody tired of having to be somebody he wasn’t. Tired of men slap him in the ass and women turn up their nose like he was their competition. Of stuffing his mouth with cock and working his fingers slowly inside of someone who didn’t care about him outside of the house. e just wanted it to stop. 

Reaching up, he began undoing the buttons of his blouse, pulling at his colorful tie to get it to slip from his neck. 

“You’re wrong, by the way. Roger is here.” He muttered out, catching John’s eyes. “Roger’s been here all along, and you want to know why? Because there is no Rina, John.” 

He was sure he sounded like a crazy person. He must have looked it too. Piece by piece he began pulling away from his clothing, ripping open the blouse until his chest was revealed. The bra he had on was white and tight, filled with the false breast that the men loved to squeeze. 

“I’ve done this for a long time, John. But I’m tired of it. So bloody tired.” Reaching up, Roger pulled at the wig, pulling it off his head. He normally took his time, making sure to care for his skin and making sure the glue didn’t pull. There was no time for that now. He was ripping it off and holding it in his hand like it was a mop rather than the wig he cared for often.

He stood there, looking frazzled and sweaty and tired. John was staring at him like he had set the whole house on fire; those grayish green eyes that Roger adored wide and glazed over. 

Roger stood to wait for John to react. To get upset or speak his mind, but he never did. Swallowing hard, John moved away from Roger, slipping past him and going back into the house. Roger didn’t expect that. He didn’t know what to except, but for him to walk away without a word, well that was the worst of it. 

Roger moved to sit back on the bench, tossing the wig to the ground without a second thought. Hanging his head, Roger cursed loud before letting the cold, miserable tears fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be bathing in your tears and drinking the remains. 
> 
> One more left kids.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is dedicated to the three little monsters that threatened to yeet themselves out a building if I didn't post this.

Roger was fairly certain everything had gone to shit after Freddie’s party. They were supposed to be leaving for their tour in just three days time, but John hadn’t shown up to any meetings since then. Poor Brian was left utterly baffled with no idea what they were supposed to be doing, while Freddie was just trying to keep the family together. 

 

Roger apologized endlessly, insisting that he would bow out if needed. He had his fun and he’d still get paid for his work. They could find someone else to go on tour and do the drumming. He was good, he knew that for a fact, but surely there was someone out there could do his part for the time being. He wasn’t going to force the band apart. 

 

Freddie downright refused to listen to that. He adored Roger just as he adored John and Brian and wasn’t going to allow him to walk away without at least trying to make this work. So Freddie called an emergency meeting, demanding that each member arrive. Brian sat with his guitar while Roger stood over in the corner. 

 

When John finally arrived, Freddie came up with some bullshit reason for him and Brian to leave the room. Poor Brian was still in the dark about what had gone on and just followed Freddie because was told too. 

 

John stood with his arms crossed and hips pointed out. He refused to look at Roger and the blond felt terrible for it. He moved carefully, practically shaking as he did so. 

 

“Say something.” Roger requested. “Please, John. I know this is hard to handle but the silence is utter torture.” 

 

“What do you want me to say?” John muttered, finally casting his eyes over to Roger. 

 

“Anything! Yell at me. Scream. Call me a right tart and make me leave the band. I don’t care so long as you just say something.” 

 

John ran his hand through his hair, tugging on the locks. “I’m not going to make you leave the band, Rog.” He muttered at last. “I don’t have that much power.” 

 

“If you want me out, then I am out.” Roger had his fun but he wouldn’t make it uncomfortable for John. He wouldn’t make it awkward for him. Make it hard to play around him. 

 

“I don’t want . . . I don’t know what I want.” John sighed, placing his hands on his hips. “No, actually. I do know what I want. I want the truth.”

 

“The truth?” Roger mimicked. 

 

“Yes, Roger. I want the truth. I want to know about you and about Rina and how you’re the same person.” 

 

“Right.” Roger bobbed his head, breathing slowly. He could do that. Going to sit down, he leaned back in his chair and well, told him the truth. 

 

He told him all about how he got into the house, how he had become Rina would of the desperation of wanting to live on his own and make his own way. He knew there were other jobs, other things he could do. But he liked it. He liked the attention, he liked the fun. He knew it was wrong, but he was young and willing to do anything so he could make a good living. 

 

But things had changed since then. Roger was older and he wanted more than to just sit and look pretty. He wasn’t going to say that John came and changed his life, but there was a spark that the man set off. Having a man want to give him pleasure, wanting to talk and listen to him. Roger never had that happen before and it terrified him. 

 

He didn’t want to push John away but he knew he had. It wasn’t fair to John, to lead him on and make him feel like they could have a future together when Roger didn’t have what John wanted. 

 

“So this is you then,” John muttered, looking Roger over. 

 

He was in jeans and a tee shirt, with a plaid button-up hanging on his shoulders. His hair was tussled about, shirt and unstyled. He looked like he rolled out of bed, very much unlike the pretty lass he would show up to be every night at the house. 

 

“This is me,” Roger said, waving his arms out to show himself off. 

 

“And you . . . you’re gay?” 

 

“I swing both ways, though I prefer men.” He didn’t speak about it often, but that was the truth. He could please them both, as Roger was a man with many talents, but the fact still remained at the end of the day.

 

“Right.” John bobbed his head, his hands still on his hips. “Me too, you know. Just so we’re on the same page.” 

 

“You what too?”

 

“I swing both ways, though I do prefer the company of a man.” 

 

“Oh.” Now that was unexpected. “If you . . . why were you so persistent with Rina?” 

 

John shrugged, chuckling quietly. Roger had forgotten how much he liked that sound, how much he liked that smile. “I found that rather confusing as well,” He admitted. “I think, deep down, it was like I knew. Like I could sense that you were . . . you.” 

 

“Right. I am me.” Roger looked himself up and down. He was handsome, both as a female and male, but it was different like this. John was smiling at him and Roger suddenly felt shier than he expected to be. 

 

As Rina, he put on a mask. He could pretend and not be bothered by it. It was all fake. A show. But now, he was himself. Roger was just Roger and John were looking at him for the first time in a long time. 

 

“I really did like Rina,” John confessed to him, moving closer. “But, something tells me I may like Roger more.” 

 

“Yeah?” Roger offered, a smile breaking over his lips. “I mean, Roger certainly likes you. Far more than Rina.” 

 

“Enough to speak in the third person?” John teased.

 

Roger rolled his eyes, pushing to stand up and meet him halfway. He realized now this was the first time he was looking John in the eyes as himself. No tinted sunglasses to block his view of hiding his face. 

 

Roger had nothing more to hide from the man and that was the most uplifting yet terrifying thing of all. 

 

“We leave for tour in three days,” John mentioned. 

 

“Three days.” 

 

“Neither of us got to enjoy that party, you know.” He added, shifting from one foot to the other. 

 

“Our own bloody party and it was nothing but a mess for us. How unfair is that?” 

 

“We could always celebrate on our own?” John suggested lightly. 

 

That certainly piqued Roger’s interest. Roger was fairly certain there were a few things he and John could do in order to enjoy such a big achievement. “My place or yours?” 

 

They ended up going to Roger’s, as it happened to be closer. They chatted for the drive, keeping the conversation light and loose. They had completely forgotten to tell Brian and Freddie they were leaving, but they were sure they got the idea when they returned to the studio to find them no longer there.

 

Leading him up the stairway, Roger fumbled with his keys to open the door, yelling at John attacked him the moment they were through the doorway. Roger kicked the door back, slamming it shut behind them. 

 

Roger was pressed against the wall, his mouth tight on John’s as they kissed in the walkway of his loft. Roger hadn’t done this in such a long time, brought someone home for some fun. But this wasn’t just someone and they weren’t just having fun. 

 

Kissing John was a whole new experience. He held onto him like he would slip through his fingers if given the chance, though Roger wanted nothing more than to stay there in his arms, their mouths slated together with their tongues tangling. 

 

They lost their clothing along the way to his bedroom, and before Roger could even get a word in, John was pushing him down onto the bed, dropping to his knees before him. Roger was sitting up on his arms, his green eyes blown wide at the gorgeous sight before him. 

 

“What are you doing?” He whispered softly, swallowing hard as John looked up to him, his eyes glazed over with lust. 

 

“You’ve pleasured me long enough, Rog. Now it’s my turn to return the favor.” 

 

Roger let out a loud groan as John’s mouth wrapped around the tip of his cock. Truth was, Roger didn’t remember the last time he had his cock sucked. His usual sense of pleasure was jerking off in the shower in the early morning or late afternoon. Whenever he did decide to go home with someone, foreplay was usually skipped and they went straight into sex. It was usually short-lived and nice, but Roger could always see this would be far, far different. 

 

John was taking his time, making the most of it. He was working his mouth so carefully, using his hand wherever his mouth couldn’t reach. Roger was lying on the bed, fisting the sheets as he tried to fight off his orgasm. The last time he needed, the last thing he wanted, was for this to end right then and there. 

 

Roger was fairly certain if he blew his load in the first few minutes, that he would legitimately sink into the mattress and die of embarrassment. It was hard (no pun intended), especially when John moved his lips away and began mouthing at his balls as his hand did the rest of the work. 

 

The blond was sure he sounded like an utter fool. Praising John endlessly, using and saying things that he didn’t mean (but really did mean).

 

When he did finish, he was left panting on the bed. John sucked him down, swallowing everything he had to offer. It was by far the sexiest thing he had ever witnessed and despite how tired he was, Roger made the effort to pull John up to him for a hot, messy, disgusting kiss. 

 

After all, he had worse things in his mouth than his own spunk on John’s tongue. 

 

“You, are bloody fantastic,” Roger muttered as they pulled away, his words heavy and breathless.

 

John was smiling stupidly, looking absolutely gorgeous in the low light from the window. If Roger wasn’t lost to him before, he definitely was now. When he laid back on the bed, John followed beside him, his head resting on his arm as they settled on the pillows. 

 

They sat there in comfortable silence. Normally Roger would reach for a cigarette, but he found his hand laying on John’s chest, his fingers running up and down lazily.

 

“The party was my last night at the house,” Roger confessed to him after a while.

 

“Do you think you’ll miss it?” John questioned, rolling over so he was laying on his side, facing Roger. “Think you’ll miss being her?” 

 

Roger did think about it, but he already knew the answer. He was grateful for the life he lived as Rina, but the blond also knew there was so much he wanted to do. Like himself, his true self. Roger Taylor. 

 

“Maybe a little but as Freddie told me, no looking back. Only forward.” 

 

“Listening to Freddie is both the best and worst thing I have ever done,” John laughed softly, lifting his hand to cup Roger’s cheek. 

 

The blond melted into the touch, his face fitting so easily in John’s callous hand. He turned his head, kissing John’s palm sweetly. It was terribly comfortable, annoyingly domestic and he couldn’t be happier.

 

“All we have to do now is prepare for the tour,” John mentioned quietly, pulling Roger closer to him. “Three more days. Two, technically.” 

 

“Any idea what we could do in that time?” Roger asked, lifting his head and wiggling his perfectly sculpted eyebrows. 

 

“You mean other than sitting back and mentally prepare?” John asked, laughing as Roger swatted at his chest. “I could think of a few things.” 

 

Roger shifted on the bed, rolling on top of John to kiss him soundly. They had all the time in the world and Roger didn’t want to waste another second of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this story ends here but I have another that I will be posting soon. For those who are also readers of Hardzello, my co-writer and I recently wrote something together. Check that out if you like.
> 
>  
> 
> There is a companion piece to this! When I See You Again by Hudsteith -- check it out!


	10. (Rewritten)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reuploaded because I wasn't happy with the first draft. 
> 
> Sometimes I update due to the excitement of the chapter and that backfires. My apologies. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this rewrite.

Roger has always wanted to be a rockstar.

Ever since he was a young lad sitting behind a drum kit with his short little legs swinging on the seat, he had huge dreams of being in a rock group and having a number one hit.

He was almost there too. Just barely, really. He was in a rock group and while they hadn’t hit number one just yet, they were doing pretty well for themselves. They had been on tour all across Europe and even Japan. People were starting to know their names and even once or twice they had started to be recognized.

It was a dream come true for all four of them. Well, perhaps not all four.

Freddie and himself always knew they wanted to be stars. They wanted attention and popularity. It’s who they were meant to be. They were meant to rock and have their names up in lights. The other two members on the other hand . . . not so much.

Brian was a wonderful guitarist. Truly gifted! The things he could do with a guitar that he practically built himself were magical. But he also had his head up in the sky and constantly sound himself lost in the constellations. When they were working practicing on their latest album, Brian was up and away, trying to earn his next degree.

And John. Sweet, lovely John. So talented and wonderful. John could do things to a bass that no regular player could ever imagine. But if you told him that tomorrow that Queen would end and he’d be back to building amps and fixing electrical wiring, he would give a simple shrug because hey, that was life. Sometimes things do not go as planned.

Roger never understood how someone with so much talent could care so little for his ability. John practice often and tried to perfect his craft, but he also had other things he wanted to do. Of course, they all did. Freddie loved to shop and Roger loved his cars, but John had so much he wanted to do and sometimes it seemed as though the band was a bit of a bother to him. Just a long term hobby that sometimes would take him away from home.

Roger loved cars but he’d never be a professional driver. Music was it for him and he always said he would do whatever he could to continue playing.

Truth be told, Roger never thought he’d have to put his money where his mouth is, but it seemed fate sometimes liked to play sick jokes onto people.

While they had become quite popular in the European side of the world, they were still somewhat unknown to Americans. So when they had booked an American tour, no one knew what to expect. Sure, in places like Boston, New York, and Florida, they had the time of their lives.

People wanted a rock concert and that was exactly what they were given. Freddie, ever the optimist, swore that by the time they returned to London they’d have dozens of phone calls bring their American brothers wanting them to come back and put on something bigger and better.

It was the smaller states, like Nebraska and Idaho, little farm towns that caused a bit of trouble. Now, they did not want to judge because small villages are going to be nothing like the big open city, but the people coming to the concert didn’t know what to make of them. Why they were even booked in places like that was still questionable, but so long as they got paid, that was all that mattered.

Truth be told, they had gotten into a bit of debt halfway through their tour, due to spending their petty cash on Americanized clothing, hotels, and food. No one could blame them. They were young men in another country for the first time, mostly left unattended. They couldn’t be babysat the entire time, after all, Miami already had enough going on.

They bought clothing and lots of other things that they would bring back with them to England, though it was mostly burning holes in their pockets.

Freddie had begged the record label to give them a bit of cash and they agreed but the moment they hit the western side, they were shit out of luck. All they could do was sing their songs and sleep on the bus as they made their way to the next venue.

They made due right up to the very end, where they would be playing in Nevada and then California for their final show. The Cali show was going to be their biggest yet and would secure them with enough funds to go home without issue.

Problem was the venue for Nevada, just outside of the wonderful place called Las Vegas; a place full of pretty colors and shiny gambling games that caught each member eye the moment they walked along the strip.

They had a bit of petty cash, but it wasn’t enough to have any real fun.

Or perhaps it was.

Roger, using his gift of persuasion to convince Brian that if they just played their cards right, they could take that bit of American money and double it, perhaps even triple it.

Brian was curious to see if it was possible, so the two grouped up together, taking the small amount of money he saved along the way and followed Roger to the casino. They played for a bit and to his surprise, they did win a bit. Not by much, but they were able to get a bit more than they walked in with.

Brian was pleased, but Roger wanted more. He needed more. How could he just walk away when they were still hot? Roger took the chance and threw caution to the window, taking the money that Brian and himself had both won and went back on his own . . . only to lose it all within minutes.

He didn’t know how to happened.

One-second he was on the top of the world and then he went down, down, leaving him empty-handed. He didn’t know what to do. He had nothing! Not even enough to start over again. Roger went back to the hotel room, finding all three members there lounging about and enjoying the night.

He told them the truth because he didn’t have a choice. What was he supposed to do? Pretend like he hadn’t lot one hundred and forty-two dollars?

Brian was furious, mostly because a good portion of that money was his. Freddie wasn’t surprised but disappointed nonetheless. And John. John just shook his head, staying quiet. Roger had known John for some time now and while he had seen him be a vicious bitch from time to time, there was nothing more dangerous than a silent John Deacon.

Normally this wouldn’t have been an issue, because it was a loss, a hit they’d suffer from, but they still had one more show to put on. And while it didn’t pay the most, it would be enough to get them to California.

Problem was, the venue wasn’t what they expected. Brian and Freddie signed off on everything the management set them upon. They spoke on the phone to all the people booking them, though even Freddie will admit that towards the end they just got lazy. Anybody who wanted them could have them so long as they were willing to pay.

The place in Nevada was just outside the strip and appeared to be something of a summer festival, which on its own was ridiculous due to the heat. It had been something in the making for quite a while; a female-centric music festival that was willing to pay big bucks so long as the bands arrived on time.

It seemed there had been a bit of miscommunication between the management, the person running the event, and then the band themselves because when Brian and Freddie showed up with Miami to make sure everything was running smoothly, it appeared that it was not only a ‘female-friendly’ event but rather a ‘female only’ performance rule.

“If you don’t have a girl in your band, you can’t perform.” They told Freddie, their lazy American accent dragging their words along.

Or so that was how he recounted it. The whole situation annoyed the lead singer quite a lot, so he might have played it off as more dramatic than it was.

The two had arrived to drop off their equipment only to be told that men weren’t allowed unless they had a female member with them. They were confused as no one had mentioned this rule before.

“What kind of band is called Queen and doesn’t even have a woman in it. Like, what would happen if there was an all-girl band called King?”

“Wouldn’t that be rather empowering?” Brian had suggested, shifting his feet when he was given a glare in response.

“No female, no performance. Sorry boys.”

From what Freddie relayed back to the others, the woman at the desk ripped up their title card so swiftly that it sent actual chills down his spine. Normally they would just take it in stride, but Miami reminded them that they didn’t have anything to get them from Nevada to California. No money for gas or food or lodging. Miami already persuaded the management to give them a bit extra, but they made it very clear they weren’t going to break the bank on them.

So in reality, they were quite fucked.

“I explained to the poorly dressed girl that there was a mistake. We’ll be playing in just a few hours.” Freddie mentioned, shrugging it all off like it was nothing.

“How did you do that, Fred?” John asked from the corner of the room.

“I merely stated that while I am the lead singer, we do have a girl in the band. A very pretty one in fact who also sings alongside me from time to time.”

This was what got Roger out of his slump. He had been sulking in the corner, accepting the fact that he fucked up and while he had previously been trying to win over John’s affections by tuning his bass and promising to clear out his garage once they returned home. He’d finally get rid of all the useless crap John had begged him to get rid of. In the end, he finally gave up and allowed the man to be angry with him.

“We don’t have a girl in the band,” John stated obviously, though Brian and Freddie were just left smiling.

“Well, of course, we do, darling!” Freddie turned then, looking back to their drummer who was sitting up correctly in his chair. “Ms. Rina Rogers on drums.”

“Fred,” Roger spoke as a warning.

“We had no other choice,” Brian insisted from beside Freddie.

“You had plenty of choices!”

“Just as you had a choice to accept our winnings and not run off with them, leaving us stranded,” Brian replied harshly. “Sometimes I question how you could spend so much time with Deacy and yet learn nothing from him.”

“I am his boyfriend, not his trainer,” John commented.

It wasn’t ideal, but at least it was confirmation that they were still together. That alone made Roger feel a bit better.

The situation on a whole, however, made him sick to his stomach. Pushing up off the chair, Roger stormed out, leaving the hotel all together so he could go sit outside in the van. It had been three years since he said goodbye to the brothel. Three years since he stopped with the makeup and the wigs. Three years since he said goodbye to Rina.

And he had been happy because of it. Truly.

Roger was happy for the chances they had been given by working the way he did. Because of that job, he met Freddie and Brian and John. His relationship with John was created because of the role he played at Rina, with the pretty big tails and red lips.

But that wasn’t who he was anymore. He didn’t get pleasure from dressing up and pretending to be a girl. He did what he had to do to make money and survive. Sure, he didn’t hate it, but he didn’t actively love it either. It was a job. Rina was a mask he wore that he swore he’d never put on again.

And here he was, with the reality of him fucking up thrown in his face. He was staring down a barrel with no end in sight, though even if he found one, he was sure he wouldn’t like it.

The van door ripped open then and the sunlight beamed inside harshly. The light surrounded John like a halo, making him look even more lovely. “Though I’d find you out here,” He commented quietly. “Mind if I join you?”

Roger, who had been laying down and contemplating how pathetic his life was, answered with a shrug. John climbed inside, going to sit across the way.

“I told Freddie he couldn’t make you do what they want you to do,” John told him after a silent beat.

“Of course he can. And he will. I’m the reason we’re in this mess, to begin with.” Roger admitted, absolutely hating himself for it.

He didn’t know why he bothered. Why he would pretend like any of it was okay when it wasn’t. Why he thought any of his ideas would work when in reality, all they did was blow up in his face. After all, the poor bastard couldn’t even write a decent song, what made him think he could save the day and win them millions?

“And we’ll handle the mess together. I’ll speak with Miami and the record label. We’ll see if we can barter for gas money. We’ve starved before and been all right.”

“I’m not going to let you all put your neck on the line because I decided to get trigger happy in poker,” Roger grumbled aloud.

“Then we’ll sell some of our things. Has to be a pawn shop around here somewhere. We’re in Nevada. Las Vegas. Surely someone has to be able to help out pathetic souls with gambling problems.”

“None of you are going to deal with this,” Roger sat up suddenly, speaking a bit louder. “It’s my mess. I’ll get us out of tithe only way I know how apparently.”

Roger didn’t even know where they were supposed to get the shit they would need, but he was sure Freddie would come up with a plan for it. All Roger had to do was play the part so they could all play their parts so they could get paid. He’s put up with the silliness of it all because that is what you do when you fuck up. You fix it one way or another.

“Roger,” John spoke carefully across the way. “I know this isn’t ideal.”

“Ideal isn’t manageable for us, Deacy.” Roger knew if this all blew up in smoke today, John would have more than enough to bounce back on. As did Brian. And Freddie . . . he could do anything. What could Roger do? Go back to dental school? Become a professor of biology? 

Music is all Roger knew. He had no other choice. 

“What do you want me to say, Roger? If you don’t want to do it, then don’t. Stressing over it won’t help the situation.” 

“I’m not stressing!” Roger snapped, catching the brunet off guard. He softened suddenly, adjusting his sitting in the back of the van. “It’s not that. I know how to play, I know how to sing. Doing it in a skirt and heels won’t make a difference. It’s just me.” Roger lifted his head, those beautiful blue eyes finding John’s hazel in the dark. “I’m not a woman. Never have been. I played the part because I needed to and I’ll play it again because I need to. I just…”

Roger shook his head, knowing how pathetic he had to have sounded.

“I was very popular as Rina, but as Roger, I always felt like I wasn’t worth a thing. Now we’re in this band and my name is getting out there, but it seems no matter how big we get, I’ll never be able to get away from her. I’ll never be as successful as Roger Taylor. Instead, I’ll forever be standing in Rina Rogers’ shadow.”

“It’s only one night, Roge. Only one show.”

“One is more than enough, John.” Roger scoffed. “Oh, what do you care? You were in love with her. You must be thrilled to have her back.”

It had been a topic that was thrown around whenever things got overly heated. Any time either felt like something was going on between them; they were caught in a funk or were just having regular old issues, Roger blamed it on Rina.

He knew it was ridiculous. They had been together for years now and yet he still acted as this imaginary bitch had to control over him. Perhaps he was just mental. He finally snapped after trying to keep sane for so long.

“Roger,” John spoke carefully. The blond didn’t know what to make of it. As said before, John could be such a bitch at times or maybe he wouldn’t say anything at all. His expression did the most amount of talking. The look of disappointment stripped across him like it was a second skin.

“I love _you_ , Roger. Not Rina. And you know why? Because Rina doesn’t exist. She isn’t real, Roger. I don’t miss her because there was no  _her_! It was always you.”

Roger scoffed, turning his face away from John’s, though the brunet was having none of it. He reached out, holding Roger’s chin between his fingers so he could turn him back and their eyes could meet once more.

“I fell in love with you, not because of some pretty pigtails or a flowy skirt. Not because of high heels and lipstick.” Moving his hand down, he placed his palm across Roger’s chest, just above his heart. “I love what’s inside of you. Under all those frills and perfume. The man deep inside that Rina could never hold a candle to.”

Roger would ask John if he has always been a romantic, but he had come up with enough love songs to prove just that. How Roger had been lucky enough to find someone like him was baffling. Every single time Roger felt down and out, John would be there to pick him back up and make him feel like he was doing something worthwhile.

“I don't miss her, Roger. How could I when you’re right here with me?” 

“One performance,” Roger whispered, taking John’s hand in his own. “And then we say goodbye to her forever,”

“Forever.” John mimicked.

Roger leaned forward, capturing John’s lips on his own. They had a few hours before the show but also had to get ready, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have a bit of fun. Roger didn’t hesitate to pull John on top of him for a bit of hanky-panky before Roger went back up and gave himself up to Freddie, Brian, and Miami.

They had been together long enough where they didn’t need to constantly be sexual with one another. Roger had done some seedy things in his past and wasn’t ashamed of it and John never made him feel dirty for selling himself and anything else he could do for the highest bidder.

Roger would never make John pay for his affections, whether it be with money or even attention. There were some nights where they could go on and on, ripping open condoms with their teeth and using spit as lube, but then there were other times, much like right now, were just a kiss and a cuddle was enough for them.

They didn’t fuck in the back of the van but if they had, it wouldn’t have been the first time. Instead, they just stayed wrapped in one another arms, with Roger’s head resting on John’s chest as he listened to his heartbeat. A heart he surely claimed more times over.

Roger agreed to once again become Rina on the soul promise that he wouldn’t be the center of attention for the whole show. Of course, they had to play up the fact that they had a girl in the group, but that didn’t mean he was going to do what he did all those years ago and skip around and entertain. He was a bloody rockstar and he wasn’t going to put on a fucking show just for a couple of bucks of gas money.

Freddie and Miami used whatever little money they got had to buy Roger everything he needed, which included a new wig and outfit. They didn’t need any makeup as Freddie had enough of his own, most of which he had borrowed from friends of his. He shaved his face, making sure to do away with any five o’clock shadow and any possible mustache that could show up.

He kept the makeup simple, not wanting to make it obvious that it was a man attempting to do drag. He had lovely features and took advantage of that, using the colors to his advantage. He curled his lashes and smacked his lips with pink glitter.

He thought about to the days when he would spend half his paycheck on all the high-end makeup and perfume and stockings. All the clothes that were nicely stitched and fit his body oh so very well. 

The wig wasn’t ideal, but it would make do and Roger took his time styling it, choosing it to let it flow freely rather than putting it up in ponytails the way he would for Rina. He teased it a bit, using pins and a bit of putty to keep it on his head. 

Rather than a schoolgirl outfit, the outfit of choice was silver and sequence. It was very pretty and quite sexy. He put on the bra that Freddie gave up, stuffing it properly with tissues and socks. He demanded a pair of tights as he stopped shaving his legs a year ago.

Finishing them off with a pretty pair of black stilettos, Roger was ready to go.

Freddie and Brian gave him a bit of shit, teasing him here and there, but he accepted it. This was his fault, his fate, and he’d put up with it for their set.

“Gorgeous, Roge,” Brian commented, leaning in the doorway. “Could give Chrissie a run for her money.” 

“Oh fuck off, will ya?” 

“You know I’ve missed this,” Freddie commented, circling the room.

It wasn’t anything great or wonderful. They had bigger dressing rooms and sometimes no rooms at all. It depended on the place and what they were willing to pay. This venue was small so they got ready in the hotel. Roger was occupying the bathroom that he and John were sharing, spreading out all the supplies across the bathroom sink. 

“We should bring Rina back more often. She always did bring such joy to my parties.” 

“Soak it up. Get the most out of this because it’s the last you’ll ever see of it.” Roger commented, pushing out past the two. 

John was sitting on the edge of the bed, tuning his bass. He looked up and for a moment, Roger thought saw something waver across his face. Attraction and excitement. Or perhaps regret and misery. It was so bloody hard to tell with him. 

“You look lovely,” He spoke quietly. “Like a blond disco ball.” 

“If we had it your way, we'd be a funk band, so I am choosing to take the comparison as a compliment,” Roger replied, adjusting his footing in his heels. “All right, mates. Let’s get this show on the road.” 

They went over their setlist during the drive to the venue, trying to arrange it so that Roger was featured just a bit more than usual. He was content sitting in the back on the risers, just jamming out like the crazed man he is. Rather than a riser, they were going to place the drum kit on the left and then move John and Brian so they were on the same side.

Personally, Roger wasn’t keen on it and when the two women running the venue came to speak about it all, he tried his best to persuade them to push him back, but it was no use. He gave up and chose to just smile along, since the less he spoke, the better.

They stayed off to the side as all the other bands came and played. He was impressed, there was no denying that. Roger always believed there was nothing more powerful than a woman who could rock and this venue proved just that.

When it was finally their time, Roger swallowed hard, prayed to whatever God that might be out in the world, and followed the others on stage. He smiled pretty and kept his hips swaying. He spoke lightly when it was his turn to speak though for the most part, he allowed Freddie to do most of the work.

Freddie was a man through and through, but he had a way to get people on his side. This was an event made for woman by a woman and Freddie was more than happy to give those woman exactly what they wanted. Good music by talented people who respected them.

Their set was only seven songs, but it played on forever, especially with Freddie dancing and speaking to the crowd. Roger just played along like always thought came off as more . . . gentle, so to say. He knew some women could rock but he didn’t want to come off on the wrong foot. So he played it up a bit, pretending to mime while doing the real thing. 

Freddie went back and forth between singing and speaking, appealing to the crowd and getting them revved up for the show. “Are we all having fun tonight, ladies? You certainly look like you are. How about a word from our lady, Ms. Rina Rogers? Come on over, Rina.” 

Roger shook his head, sending a glare to the man. He knew Freddie could play dirty at times, but this was just cruel.

The crowd was cheering however and Freddie was still hyping him up, leaving Roger with little to no choice. Moving around the drum kit, he took the microphone, tossing the blond locks over his chest. 

“Well,” He began, his voice as smooth as velvet, just the way he did not so long ago. “This is quite exciting. As my wonderful lead singer already told you, my name is Rina. I’m the drummer and one of the singers for the band Queen. It’s an honor, truly. To be playing for all you gals. We hope you’ve enjoyed the set.” 

“Shall we do another one?” Freddie suggested from the corner. “Bit acapella? You could take the lead.” 

Roger laughed it off, all the while he was sending daggers to the man when his back was turned. “And make me do all the work? Typical man,” He snorted, getting a bit of applause and cheering from the audience.

He did sing a bit, however. Harmonizing for a moment with Brian to Doing All Right, letting the others do the work for a change, though he did miss playing the drums for the time being. He made up for it by dancing about on stage with Freddie, giving the concert goers a sight no one ever expected to see. 

He shook his ass and twirled his hair, looking ridiculous and feeling completely wonderful while doing it. When it finished, the crowd was in a bit of an uproar, leaving Freddie and Roger laughing breathlessly. 

“Our apologies, everyone. This one is taken.” Freddie said, gesturing to Roger with a wink. 

Roger just laughed it off, accepting the whistles and boos that came from the reveal. He wouldn’t pinpoint John out. Not because they weren’t open, but rather he did not want to drag John into this mess any more than he already had.

When they played their final song, the four of them stood together. They chose to do ’39, a fan-favorite among the group as well as audiences. 

He stood beside John and Freddie, shaking his hips and hitting a tambourine. It was all in good fun, even after Freddie pushed the mic closer to Roger so his famous falsetto could shine through. He danced around, banging the instrument against his hip for added measure. He even teased John a bit, bumping their hips together and dancing around him, because when else would he get the chance?

It was strange, Roger had to admit, being on stage like this. All those times years ago, when he would play pretend and flirt with whoever was willing to pay for his time. He had gotten rather good at playing this silly little game in his head. He was playing it now; twisting and twirling along the stage. Practically being a little cheerleader for his band.

There was no denying that in this world girls just want to have fun and that was exactly what he was doing.

He had his fun, had his excitement, though Roger knew the moment it was over, he’d toss away the clothing and never think about it again. Rina used to be a large part of him, but that was over now. If there could only be one, then he’d proudly be Roger Taylor any day.

When their set was over, the accepted the cheers from the audience and Roger did his overly dramatic feminine curtsey, placing his one leg behind the other as he bent forward. Waving as he skipped off the stage, Roger shoved Brian playfully as they grouped back together backstage.

Miami was speaking with the showrunners, thankfully collecting all their money. The show went well, much to the delight of everyone. Freddie had been speaking of doing this again, but neither John nor Roger would listen to him.

Roger snuck off to the bar, standing off in the shadows as the next band came up to play. He was tired and indeed of a drink, even if they’d only be staying for a few moments. Several girls came up to speak to him, most of which were partially drunk while others were just extremely bold. 

He tried to keep up the facade. Not everyone was flirting with him. Some just wanted to congratulate him on a wonderful performance. But there were a chosen few that decided to ignore Freddie’s words from earlier and took their chance with the drummer. 

He shot them all down politely, though it was getting harder than he expected, especially when a handful of men who had been in the crowd decided to take the chance as well. He had never dealt with the flirting in this situation before. 

At the house, he was the one playing it cool, though in the end, it was all work and he was doing it to get paid. No, he was here, in a gorgeous outfit with both men and women trying to cop a feel and get his number, all the while he just wanted to a drink and to hear some tunes. 

God, sometimes he forgot how shitty it was to be a pretty girl. 

John was his knight in shining armor, cutting across the crowd to appear by his side in seconds. A familiar tune played across the crowd and John moved to stand behind Roger. He wrapped his arms around his middle, pulling Roger’s back against his chest as they stayed and listened. It chased away all the needy suitors and was probably the boldest move John had ever made in their relationship. 

They stayed like that, cuddled up close together as the music played out in the room. It was lovely, being able to stand like that, being the couple they were though Roger wished it was different. He wished he was dressed as himself, that he was himself, but that was a complaint about another day.

When Miami had the money in hand, the group left without another word. Roger stripped away the shoes but kept the rest on until they could make it back to the hotel room. Once inside, he began pulling away all the pieces, only to be stopped by John.

He didn't know what to expect, thinking perhaps John did enjoy the sight of him in all the glitter and glam. Roger wouldn’t have been surprised nor would he have even been against it. After all, they had a long but successful night. If John wanted to end it with a bang (pun intended) with Roger dresses as he was, then _c'est la vie_.

But rather than diving right into it, John began helping Roger strip away, tossing the shoes that Roger had been holding into the corner of the store and gently undoing the pins on the wig. He ran his fingers through Roger’s golden hair, rustling it around. 

“Cheeky bastard,” He mentioned, though he was swiftly silenced by John swooping in, pressing their lips together firmly. 

He kissed him playfully, not caring that he was getting lipstick all over. They got like this after very good shows. Somewhat grabby and a tab randy, though neither seemed to mind. It was all the passion and adrenaline running through them; things that just could not be denied. 

The rest of their clothing fell off gradually until they were both naked on the bed and every ounce of Rina had been removed from Roger for one final time.

Their little trick was successful, but right now the only thing that mattered was them.

John and Roger.

Roger and John.

Two men, utterly and completely in love.

What could be better?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, was it better or worse? 
> 
> Are you happy with the ending we have now? 
> 
> Tell me down below.


End file.
